The Blue Council

Chapter one

His hands are soft, giving me the feeling of cold cotton on my skin. His breath is piercing my soul, with warmth and uncertainty.

I had met him in a bar two hours before, ish. I had left my room that evening aware of what I was going to do and what I was looking for. My brother had strongly suggested against it, saying that I was not a child anymore, that I had to grow up and stop behaving like this.

Well, to be fair, he is right by saying that I am not a child anymore, but that does not mean that I have to listen to him. I never listened to my parents; I don't see why it should be different with him.

True, he is the dearest thing I have, and the only person I care about; I have been trying to find a way to thank him since the day he decided to take care of me, when my dad died shortly after our mother. Nothing seemed to be enough, however.

So yeah, fuck his fatherly behaviour: I went out, anyway, and I am having a hell of a good time, making out with some stranger that smells like lemon grass and tastes like cinnamon.

He told me his name, but I wasn't really listening, to be honest. I was too focused on his thin lips and his dark green eyes. He talked for a while, telling me some bullshit about his degree and his son-of-a-bitch of a boss that never gives him any vacations. What a twat, right? As if I care.

I pretended to be interested, I even faked some laughter, touching his hands with mines, and, when he asked me about myself, I replied with a smirk, before I started kissing him.

I don't like talking about myself, especially not to strangers met in a bar, and not only because of my troubled childhood and shit like that, but also because I don't find myself interesting enough. I don't want to waste people's time. "Don't do to others what you don't want to be done to you", right?

He slides his hand up my thigh, leaving a tray of heat and desire after his touch. I whisper something in his ear and try to hide my excitement as he takes his shirt off.

We went to his apartment, just a couple of minutes away from the bar where we met. It was small, and cosy, unlike mine. I share my flat with my brother, who has been my legal guardian since I was 12. We both have our own rooms, thanks to God (if there is one): Ryan, my brother, had to transform the living room into my own room so that I could stop sleeping with him. I guess he had had enough of me occupying his bed and preventing him from having sex. Not that he has a lot of sex, actually.

Anyway, this guy's apartment was quite nice for someone who spent his nights in a pathetic bar of the fifth District. His boss couldn't be that horrible.

I try not to look too baffled, as I start getting undressed.

I hate this part of my nights out. I hate taking my clothes off in front of someone who just wants to see my bare skin, to own me. I hate watching them doing the same, expecting my desires to be like theirs.

Once my clothes are on the floor I walk towards him to let him know I am there to satisfy his pleasures and desires. I let him know that he can do whatever he want to me: I will comply. I have to, in some way.

I think the main reason why my brother doesn't want me to behave like this is because he hates the thought of me being owned by someone else. He hates the thought of someone touching me like my stepdad used to do. But again, I'm a grown up now, and I don't think I need his permission to do stuff. Moreover, this is my role in this fucked up society we live in.

The guy whose name I forgot stands up, towering me, and starts getting undressed, kissing me now and again. We move to the bedroom, bigger than my whole kitchen, I suppose.

He has never done something like this before, I can tell by the way his hands caress my body and his mouth kisses my skin.

All considered, he's not too bad... A bit too quick, maybe, if you know what I mean.

He falls asleep almost immediately, with his arm around me, almost caging me up in his bed. I slip out of his grip and out of the silk sheets. Why do people have silk sheets? I think they are way too slippery.

I go to the bathroom (which is as big as my room) and I clean myself quickly with a towel. I will take a shower once I get home, even if that means waking Ryan up. I get dressed as fast as I can, wanting to leave the stranger's house as soon as possible.

I button my shirt up and I tuck it into my trousers. I wear my tie and, before I leave, I make sure to collect the payment from the dining table.

This is what I like about my lifestyle: being paid by people that I will never meet again.