The Lighter and the Scissors

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I divide the story of my life into two parts: the years before the incident and the time since. What occurred rocked my world like a psychic earthquake. I was looking for a transformation, and I found it in the abyss of a human soul.Growing up, I had been a loner, an introvert who withdrew from the company of others. I avoided social gatherings whenever possible. This practice conflicted with the wishes of my aristocratic family, whose business dealings and political pursuits kept them perpetually in the limelight. They tried to force me to be more outgoing, but this only increased my distress, resulting in several panic attacks in public. The elders discussed several options for me. My grandfather sent me to a psychiatrist who diagnosed a social anxiety disorder, which was a politically correct way of saying that I was afraid of people. The doctor’s solution was prescriptions of Prozac and Valium combined with talk therapy, where I felt compelled to ramble on about my childhood. I didn’t see the value in those $600-hour sessions, but I couldn’t object to Papi spending his own money if he insisted on it.Dr. Wildare was a stereotypical Freudian shrink who focused on my parental relationships. His theory was that my strict upbringing had instilled in me a sense that I could never meet expectations. The internal belief that I had disappointed my parents made me fear rejection from everyone. As a consequence, I ended up trusting no one. Fears of what might happen prevented anything from happening, a disabling process he called catastrophizing, by which a person cages himself in. It made sense to me, but self-knowledge of the problem did not eliminate it. The effect of this analysis was to make me feel psychologically damaged.He threw out many suggestions for me to try. They were strategies designed to alter my way of thinking. I’d listen politely to his proposals, promising to give them a shot, before forgetting about them the minute I got out of his office. But then he came up with a new idea that intrigued me. He said that to escape my fears: I should try leaving myself behind. He suggested that I go somewhere I’d never been, incognito, and act out a new role for myself. Essentially, I might lower my perceived risk to myself by being someone else for a while. If I could relax in those circumstances, the experience might teach me to be more sociable.This novel plan appealed to me. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to try it. Coincidentally, Halloween was only two weeks away, so I had a practical reason for wearing a disguise. I found a specialty store in Boston that rented out high-quality costumes. They had dressed up a mannequin in their display window in a precise copy of the original Batman outfit. It was magnificent! I had long appreciated the dichotomous nature of the Batman character, identifying with the reserved privileged life of Bruce Wayne while fantasizing about morphing into the flamboyant superhero admired by all. I had the costume custom-tailored for a perfect fit. The mere act of putting it on improved my mindset.The next piece of the puzzle was figuring out where to go. I needed to get away from my locale to find a social environment different from the high-brow gatherings of Boston Brahmins with which I was most familiar. While hunting online to find something with a rougher-edge feel to it, I located a Halloween party to take place at The Tentacles, a club near Portland, Maine. It was over a hundred miles away. I knew right away it was a perfect choice.As soon as my afternoon seminar at Harvard Law ended on October 30, I rushed to my Beacon Hill apartment to put on the outfit before hitting the road. I had added bright red pinstripes onto the hood and side panels of my black sports car to give it a Batmobile flare. The fact that I felt like Batman made me giddy as I headed up the turnpike on this adventure that I thought might change my life. I had no idea of how right I would turn out to be. Part 2The Tentacles was a popular nightclub about five miles outside of downtown Portland. It attracted a working-class clientele who came out to have a few drinks and blow off a little steam. This hotspot had a large bar with a dance floor and the usual pool tables and pinball machines, but its most outstanding feature was a long outdoor deck with a scenic ocean view. Three wooden ramps led down to the beach for those who wished to walk along the shore. Because I had arrived early, I ordered a late lunch on the patio before the holiday festivities began in earnest. It was a beautiful day with hardly a cloud in the sky. The cool salt air was energizing.By seven o’clock, the party was kicking into high gear. The owners of the club had offered prize money for the best-dressed revelers in several genres. As a result, there was an abundance of spectacular costumes. I walked around in amazement, checking out the crowd. There was a touch of the beautiful, a bit of the humorous, much of the bizarre, and not a little of that which might excite disgust. I quickly decided that the winner in the latter category should be the woman wearing the tattered shrouds of a victim of the Red Death. Blotches of the scarlet horror stained her exposed skin, with hideous shades of purple and black surrounding her eye sockets. Particularly innovative was the man who wore an Einstein mask while disguised in Robin Hood attire. He was walking around sniffing a drainpipe while reciting the alphabet in a childlike manner. The symbolism escaped me, but there is no doubt he was attracting much notice. I even shared a good-natured laugh with a couple dressed as Batman and Robinette.The reader may discern that I was enjoying myself. No one was more surprised than I at my exhilaration. I was initiating conversations with total strangers, even finding the courage to ask two women to dance, something I had never done before. My spirit was coming to life. That night, for the first time in my life, I was more than just a member of a prominent family who was expected to think, speak, and act in a certain way. That night, I was me. It didn’t feel like I was being watched or judged. The costume and the anonymity it provided released me from the bondage of my identity. I was thrilled! It was exciting to celebrate my liberation with salt-of-the-earth people. I wanted to hug them all, to tell them how beautiful they were, an observation that gave rise to a fleeting urge to call Dr. Wildare to describe these revelations, but prudence dictated that that could wait until the session the following week.I went to the bar to get another drink. I was treading lightly with the alcohol, not wanting to spoil my fun with the challenges of intoxication. I had drunk wine at all the other parties bahis siteleri I had ever attended, but plain beer was the preferred choice this night. While looking to my left, trying to get the bartender’s attention, I suddenly felt long fingernails being dragged down my right arm from the shoulder to the elbow.”Meeeeeoooooooowwwwwww!”I turned my head to meet the gaze of a goddess-like temptress come to life in the guise of the Catwoman. This captivating beauty oozed sensuality in every aspect of her appearance, from her jet black hair flowing down past her shoulders to her glistening ruby red lips and curvaceous body exquisitely outlined in form-fitting black satin. But the most extraordinary feature of this alluring woman was her emerald green eyes which seemed to have a light of their own. Their hypnotic radiance captivated me, stunning me, leaving me standing there drowning in them, unable to speak or move. The tension I felt contrasted sharply with the relaxed, confident look she displayed.”Hmm … well, Caped Crusader, we are known for having roiling chemistry between us, but your reaction seems particularly strong tonight.”I could not answer, for her powerful eyes had penetrated the protection of my disguise. She acknowledged this with a coy smile.”It seems the cat really has gotten your tongue.” My seductive antagonist leaned forward to kiss me, separating my lips forcibly with her tongue, pulling mine into her mouth with gentle suction. While backing away, she whispered in a teasing tone: “Don’t worry, she’ll give it back.””I’m thankful for that.” I was finally able to smile, although with a tinge of embarrassment. I was off-balance, feeling lost, scrambling for something to say.”My! We are shy, aren’t we?” she snickered as she scraped her long black nails down my chest, deliberately directing them across both nipples. “Fortunately, I am much more forthright. I am Catwoman, although right now I feel more like Cougarwoman, on the prowl for the purrfect prey. When I spot a well-dressed muscular version of my primary nemesis, I spring to life, especially when he’s young, virile, and needing attention.””You think I need attention?””Oh, yes, very much so. I’ve been watching you.””And what do you see?””I see a spoiled, repressed young man who’s scared, feeling his way, trying to break free of the chains holding him down. I see a rube who’s willing to take chances to find the excitement he craves to experience.”For a brief moment, I recoiled. I was not used to frontal assaults. But in my mind, her willingness to wield the truth like a sledgehammer quickly overcame her lack of bourgeois diplomacy. She was sensual, brutally honest, and intelligent: a combination I found most refreshing and fascinating. And I will confess (although I’m sure the reader has already figured it out) that I was beyond pleased to be receiving the attention of an experienced older woman. And like Mae West, this enticing seductress may have noticed a sign in my tight outfit that I was indeed happy to see her.”You’re very direct, my furry feline friend.””Yes, like a Siberian tiger. Come and see. Come dance with me, crimefighter.”I followed her to the edge of the dance floor. The band kicked in with a rendition of Eric Clapton’s ‘Wonderful Tonight’: a tune that brought us close in a slow dance. I could feel the warmth and softness of her body, as I’m sure she felt the hardness in mine. She looked into my eyes, which were transfixed on hers. There was no way I could break off from her gaze. Her green irises sparkled in the light, reflecting a sublime beauty worthy of divinity. Our eyes swam together, mixing and coiling like entrapped lovers, which I felt certain we would be before the night was over. Time evaporated, the dance becoming a dream in slow motion with visions of ecstasy on the horizon.As the last note was fading, she again ran her nails down my arm. “Tell me your name.””Richie.””I’m Cleo.”After some applause for the well-played song, the band launched into the more raucous “Tumblin Dice”, a Rolling Stones hit about a gambler losing his bets after being conned by women. Cleo immediately changed gears, rocking and gyrating her hips in pulsating motions that had me salivating with desire. She was sweating up a storm as she pointed at me while belting out the lyrics like she had written them for me.My dancing was clumsy, erratic motions out of sync with the music. I was a ‘rube’ compared with this entrancing woman who could switch from a romantic softness to boldly sexual in a flash. As the song ended, the thought hit me that her picking me out of the crowd was a change in good fortune for me.”Wow, that was fun! Let’s go out on the deck. I need to cool down a little.”We walked outside. I started to pull a chair out for Cleo at the first empty table. “No, Richie, let’s get a table at the edge of the deck. They look the other way if you smoke out there, and I need a cigarette.” That suited me just fine as I was feeling the nicotine call too. We grabbed a table at the rail where we were away from the crowd. A waiter came over after we sat down.”Buy me a drink, Richie.” Without waiting for a response, she turned to the waiter: “I’ll have a bourbon, JTS Brown please, on the rocks, a double, if you will. Bring him a Heineken.” As he walked away, she took her cigarette case from her purse and continued fumbling around, searching for something. “I ordered you a real beer, a step up from that Budweiser piss you’ve been drinking. I don’t know why you get that; you obviously can afford quality. Shit, I must’ve left my matches in the car. Do you have a light, baby?”I pulled out my lighter that had fit conveniently into one of the latching compartments on my Batbelt. I flicked it, leaning over to put the flame to the tip of the Virginia Slim hanging expectantly from Cleo’s lips.”What is that?” she asked with some urgency.”It’s a lighter that once belonged to Hermann Goering. My great-grandfather was a colonel in the Army in World War II. He commanded the brigade that captured Goering at his villa near the end of the war. While waiting for orders on what to do with him, my great-grandpappy got to know this high-profile prisoner pretty well. He split a few bottles of wine with him over several lavish dinners. When the Army sent MPs to take Goering to Nuremberg for trial, he gave this lighter to the colonel as a thank you gift. I hardly ever use it, but I decided to bring it out tonight for the party.”I passed it to Cleo so she could look at it. It was in the shape of a small grenade. On one side was a swastika made from inlaid black obsidian on a background of red enamel. On the other was a solid gold replica of the Blue Max, a highly coveted military medal that the Reichmarschall had earned canlı bahis siteleri as an ace pilot in World War I. In the center of the award was a large ruby surrounded by a circle of small blue diamonds. Numerous precious stones studded the platinum base, which was engraved with his name and squadron. Weeks of precision work by a skilled jeweler were evident in the craftsmanship.”This must be worth a lot of money.””Possibly. I like the historical aspect of it; I will never sell it. It’s very well-designed too. It never fails to light.””Never?””Never.””Interesting. Do you ever get bad vibes from it? I mean, you know, the swastika and all the evil Nazi stuff. Where did they get the gold to make it? Do you think about those things?””Not really. As I say, I look upon it as a piece of history. I think I was lucky to get it. The family may have given it to me because I’m the only one of my generation who smokes.””Interesting. I have something with some history attached to it, too, back at my house. I’ll show you when we go there.”With my cigarette now needing a light, she gave me the lighter back. As I lit up a Marlboro, there was a slight tremor in my hand, no doubt from the excitement I felt at her intimation about going to her place.Cleo pulled a small ceramic bullet-shaped device from her purse, shaking it a few times before putting it to each nostril, inhaling deeply with visible relish. She then shook it again before passing it to me. I studied it inquisitively.”It’s a mix of South American herbs that I put together. Go ahead. It’ll pep you up.”Following her example, I stuck the open tip in each nostril and snorted up, feeling the familiar coolness of menthol, followed by a tingling sensation in my sinuses. A few seconds later, there was a bitter metallic taste numbing my throat. I had expected something very stimulating, a feeling of excitement and joy, but the reaction was much more insidious, a smug complacency that began to steal over me most delightfully. I took several large swallows of cold beer to soothe my throat before leaning back to finish my cigarette.As we sat at the table talking, I felt myself becoming more alert. The ‘herbal mixture’ was seeping into my brain, giving the world an exceedingly rosy appearance. The mundane became fascinating. I noticed things like the intricate stitching and designs in Cleo’s costume. It was certainly not an area of expertise for me, but I knew that considerable effort must have gone into its creation. I was amazed at the beautiful effect that small bits of bright red threading had when contrasting with the black satin. I began to expound on a myriad of topics, including wine, spirituality, and religion. In the course of these discussions, we discovered that we were both recovering Catholics tainted by the guilt we had learned to manufacture neurotically for ourselves.As evening descended, a full moon rose in the sky, illuminating the heavens while romantically reflecting off the endless expanse of the sea. The magnificent setting paled in comparison to the intense beauty gleaming in the eyes of this vixen, who had me in the palms of her hands. As I sat talking with her, I became ever more dreamy. My raging hormones enhanced by the powder compelled my flirtatious come-ons that earned her subtle smiles, increasing my confidence. I fancied myself a budding Casanova, clueless to the fact that I was more akin to an ant on the periphery of a dangerous web, where the black widow sits silent and still, in wait.”Richie, it’s getting cool. Let’s go to my cabin. We’ll take your car.””Ok.” I watched her down a half glass of bourbon before getting up. I was positively glowing as we made our way to the car…………….”Hmm … very nice car. Did Daddy buy it for you?””Yeah, but I’ll be able to afford my own someday soon.””I’m sure.”Leaving the lot, Cleo put the bullet to her nose, taking two more blows. She handed it to me. I was no longer a rookie. I inhaled deeply to get more effect, then shook the dispenser and took two more fast draws off it. Cleo grinned as she took it back.After entering the on-ramp, blue flashing lights lit up my rearview mirror. The ramp was too narrow to pull over, so I decided to wait until we were on the highway, where there would be a wide shoulder.”What did I do? Why are they stopping me?””I don’t know, Richie, but I’ll tell you what: I bet this car can bury them. Stomp it! It’ll get us to my place quicker, so we can fuck our brains out.”There was no thought, only reaction. I hit the gas, putting the accelerator to the floor, producing a force that pulled us into the back of our seats. In just a few seconds, we had hit 100 mph, and full power hadn’t kicked in yet. The Mercedes-Benz AMG GT Coupe with 577 horsepower was unleashed. I had never experienced anything like it. Cleo let loose with a shrill scream as the speedometer topped 190. We were flying. The blue lights faded out. The cops knew they couldn’t hang, so they gave up the pursuit. German engineering came through for us. Keeping the pedal to the metal was a mind-blowing intoxicant. It was by far the riskiest thing I had ever done. My heart rate jumped off the charts as the muscle convulsed with the exhilarating terror. I didn’t care about any possible consequences. For three minutes, my brain was open at full throttle, and I loved it.”Next exit, Batman! Next exit!”I slowed to 100 on the off-ramp.”Left at the Stop sign!””We’re going left, but we ain’t stopping!” I hit the turn at 80 mph with the thrilling sound of squealing tires breaking the night silence on the back road. The winding lane forced me to slow down, yet we were still over double the speed limit.”Richie! Jesus! Slow it down! A quarter-mile up, take a right on the dirt road!”The turn came up quickly. I slowed the car as we were now free from any chance of being caught.”After the next curve, there’s a dirt driveway on the left that’s hard to see. Take it.”The driveway went through some trees, curving at the end in front of a two-story log cabin well hidden in the woods. I parked and shut the car down. We looked at each other with our eyes the size of saucers. Catwoman let out a loud purring sound before we both broke down into hysterical laughter that went on uncontrollably for several minutes.”That was exciting!” I said with extra emphasis.”Yes, I’ve got more for you, though.””Hmm, what more have you got, sweet lady?””Come and see.” Part 3The second the door closed behind us, Cleo came at me. Grabbing the back of my head, she pulled me to her, plunging her tongue into the cavern of my mouth. Her two-inch nails dug into my neck and shoulders. My reaction was to try to keep pace with her onslaught, but it was a losing effort. Her aggressiveness made me yield canlı bahis to her control, as it was far above my level of experience to oppose. I wanted her. I craved everything she had to offer, and I knew the price I had to pay was capitulation. I was merely an understudy co-pilot on the jet fighter she was flying.”I am hungry; you will feed my needs,” she spoke into my ear in a husky voice, deepened by heavy breathing. This feisty panther then grabbed my costume at the collar, savagely tearing the silk material, shredding it in several jagged lines down to my waist. I do not doubt that she had designed this show of aggression to obliterate any remaining resistance I might have. I was ready to go down whatever path she took me.”Take off your clothes, but leave the mask on. When you are naked, go over to the blanket and kneel.”I did as I was told. I knelt in the center of the plush blanket that covered most of the living room floor. There were numerous pillows strewn about the area. Cleo had left the room for a moment, returning with a black riding crop in her hand. She put the tip of it under my chin, forcing my head up to look at her.”Pay attention; I’m going to tell you how it’s going to be. You’re going to get a lot more than you’ve been dreaming about all night because I will be in charge. I allowed you to be the dilettante on the dance floor; you will not be one here. If I were to let you lead, the best that will happen is that you will demonstrate your inexperience, and that won’t do. I am in command; I will call all the shots. Do you understand?””Yes.””Very good. If you go with the flow, you will reach the stars instead of the moon. Now, listen carefully! Cleo is giving you an order. You are forbidden to have an orgasm until I give you permission. Is that thoroughly understood?” She spoke the words in a demanding, authoritative tone, but I believe it was the hypnotic power of her piercing eyes that brought the message across most. That is the only explanation I have for my ability to obey this impossible command.”Yes.””Good. Men are incompetent, always rushing, unable to control their urges. I will teach you to slow down. You will learn that the journey is far more important than the destination.”She began to undress. I knelt there in awe, watching her every movement. She was putting on a show, but it was not a striptease. Her motions were too subtle, too refined to be put into that category. It was a slow revelation of beauty, an unwrapping of mystique. The Catwoman confidently peeled away her costume veneer to unveil the naked form of a woman who knew her power. With the mask still on, she stood there, hands on her hips, proudly displaying her body to a captive audience of one. She slid her hands up and down her sides in a drawn-out fashion, increasing the mounting sexual tension.”Be still.”The Empress kneeled in front of me, her face inches from mine. My eyes surrendered to hers, allowing them to see deep into my soul without any reservation or fear. I was gone. There was no ego for me to protect. My spirit flowed freely into hers, combining in a mystical dance that demanded a physical consummation to reach a complete union. She put her lips close to mine, lingering for a tantalizing minute before connecting with the lightest possible touch, signaling our eyes to close. Her head moved imperceptibly side to side so that the surface of our lips met with the slightest brush of skin. I wanted to press forward, but I was quickly learning the sensual possibilities of patience. She stepped up the pressure at a snail’s pace until the tips of our tongues began to slide softly against each other. Time and thought disappeared, condemned to non-existence in this vacuum of pleasure.We ended up flat on the floor, absorbed in a kissing marathon that raised our passion to a steady simmer. Eyes closed in total silence; our consciousness was limited to the sensitivity of our dueling tongues and fingers gliding over receptive skin. My lover was teaching me the intimacy of touch, awaiting my mirrored responses to be sure I learned the lessons.”Wear this for a while.” She wrapped a black blindfold around my head, tying it tightly in the back. “Lay still. Do not think, just feel. I will take care of you.”There was a brief moment of doubtful acquiesence. Among my list of recognized phobias was a lingering childhood fear of the dark and claustrophobia that had several times caused me to have asthma-like attacks, but those emotional ghouls were kept at bay by the pleasurable ministrations of this extraordinary woman. She moved slowly over my body, starting at the neck, journeying down, touching, kissing, licking, biting, stimulating every nerve and fiber in my body. I left the room, the house, the planet, traveling above the clouds, above Everest, above the stratosphere to float in the domain of heavenly ecstasy. I had never imagined that such a state of being was possible.The session continued with Cleo slithering upward, positioning herself astride me to slide down in one smooth motion. I gasped as her heat surrounded my manhood. Neither of us moved. We were silent except for the sound of our deep raspy breathing. My dominant partner broke the stillness with microscopic movements that developed into a steady rhythm, providing stimulation over the length of my shaft. My desire was raging, but her veto power on my release kept me back from the edge.”Stick with me, baby. Savor the moment,” she whispered in words barely audible inches away.I reached up to touch her. My hands coursed over her body, tracing the soft curves. I cupped her firm breasts in my hands, twisting her nipples with light pressure. She moaned while involuntarily increasing the gyrations of her hips, climaxing in a reserved manner as if saving her energy for a future expenditure.After this brief loss of conscious control, she slammed her hands down onto my shoulders, her nails digging deep into my flesh, tearing cuts several inches long. I cried out in pain as I grabbed her wrists. She immediately broke loose, forcing my arms down, pinning them to the blanket. When my resistance ceased, she put her right hand around my throat.”I’m not a lady, Richard. I never could be. Sometimes I feel like I’m not even human. Right now, I’m a combination of a caged animal, a Neanderthal witch, and a lascivious slut that needs to be taken hard in the woodshed. And you’re going to fill my needs, every one of them, tonight. I want everything you got: your strength, your energy, and your stamina, all of it. Drill me as hard as you can! Leave Richie and Bruce Wayne at home; give me the best that the Dark Knight has to offer!”She slid off of me. “Keep the blindfold in place. Take me from behind, doggie style. Show no mercy. Be my stallion. And remember, you are not to come until the time is right. Sacrifice your needs for me. And oh, here, breathe deep.” She stuck the bullet under my nose for two quick blows.”I am ready. Come and see. Come to me!”

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