Crossing The Grey

S e v e n

The master bedroom in the suite is large, just like the rest of it - the large overly made up bed taking up most of the stylishly decorated space.

Framing the far wall to the bottom of the bed on the far side of the room is a set of floor to ceiling windows, which showcase Manhattan beautifully as the inky night sky falls over it like a curtain.

It looks seductive and alluring and I can almost imagine living here seeing it like this.

I pull Charlie behind me, over by the window so that we're standing in front of it at the foot of the bed. I meet her eyes and reach up to brush my thumb back and forth across her plump bottom lip. It feels warm and soft to the touch, and I can feel the heat of her breath against my finger.

"This feels like a dream," she whispers, sounding breathless.

I smile and nod. "I know what you mean."

Dropping my hand from her mouth, I grab one end of the scarf around her neck and pull it slowly, unfurling it from her body. When I have it in my hand I ball it and throw it over the arm of the chair near the window.

"Won't be needing that this time," I say softly, betraying the tempest of emotions whirling beneath my skin.

"I still have that scarf you know," her voice is also soft, and soothing - it calms me a little. "A memento."

"Did you frame it?" I ask, distracted by the sight of the faint marks on her neck.

She smiles. "Not quite."

The silence stretches on, our breaths and the faint distant traffic far below us the only sounds in the semi-dark room.

She swallows. "So. Where can I touch you?" She asks, casting a furtive gaze over my body. My heart leaps, the beat quickening and I need to lick my lips as my mouth goes utterly bone dry. I can't do this. I want to do this. I will do this.

Control Grey. Take it.

I fix her with a hard stare. "This t-shirt I'm wearing. Remember what it looks like, remember which parts of me it covers." I tell her. She glances down, quickly across my chest and arms and then lower, before bringing her eyes back to meet mine. "When I undress. Touch me only on the places you can see right now." I instruct.

Charlie's eyes flash with something. Something curious maybe, and sad. She wants to ask me how, what, why. They always do. Then something else happens in her eyes, a flash of knowledge, understanding.

"The no touching part that night wasn't part of the kink, was it? It was just you." She says as she clearly begins piecing things together, making sense of things. Things from a long time ago. Things that maybe I should have tried harder to face, and deal with.

"Well my therapist says I should accept it as part of me so, yes."

Flynn was always telling me to accept the things I couldn't change. My past being the main thing. Honestly, I had no idea why I was paying him to tell me that sort of thing, except that it felt like a validation of some sort. A kind of acceptance. Perhaps instead I should have been paying him to help me deal better with women I loved being able to touch me.

"Christian I had no idea...." She looks apologetic.

"See. That tortured teenager thing wasn't just an act," I say lightly.

Charlie frowns, unimpressed with the humour. "So no one touches you?" She brings her hands up and holds them as though she might place them on my chest, but doesn't. They just hover there so that I feel the heat from them over my heart.