Insanity has a taste. It's mild, nearly unrecognizeable, but it sticks deep in your mouth, making you cough, swallow, everything in order just to get it out of your throat. Insanity also has a sound. It's a mixture of your own beating heart, constantly and yet arythmic, and the shallow breaths you take, leaving your brain with too less oxygene to think, but yet enough to hold up your systems. Insanity has a body. It's the pressure of a unvisible force pinning you down, making you unable to move, overloading your nerves so all you can do is shake uncontrollably.
Insanity is not an emotion. Insanity isn't even an illness. It is a living creature. She crouches in the dark, waiting for you to be distracted, for that one single split of a second in which your not fully aware, drifting of to deep sleep, that border between light and darkness, where your memories start hunting you.
I knew insanity well. I had seen all her faces over years of constantly meeting her. There had never been any closer encounter between her and my mind, (not that she didn't try) but we saw each other every time one of my clients brought her along into my perfect world, which was fairly regular.
There's an urban myth, telling that a women like me can cure a man better off her then any doctor or medication can. And more often then not that were true.
Given my current guest I was not so sure. The insanity was practically radiating off of him, nearly visibly creating a space around his body that sane people wouldn't even think of stepping in. They'd maybe not even really recognize him when his path crossed theirs, but a strong gut instinct would tell them to back off anyway.
Since he'd arrived about ten minutes before he hadn't moved or spoke. He just stood there, nervously twisting his hands in the pockets of a worn down black hoodie, hiding the half of his face under the hood of it, staring.
I was patient. I always were. They might need more or less time to get to the point of asking, but they all eventually did. Unhurriedly I took a sip of my whine, observing him just as much as he did me, but way more openly. It was hard to hide an wicked smile as he visible started to get even more uncomfortably.
Somehow, he might have been dangerous for people. But he did not appear to be any dangerous for me, at least not right now, so I decided to help him. "Leon told me you kind of...got a problem?" I asked, lightning a cigarette between my words.
Immediatly his features hardened and his attitude went stiff. I nearly expected him to just turn around and leave but he surprised me and did other wise. In one swift motion he striped his hood back and his hair to the front, raised his chin a little and faced me. The arrogance was practically trickling of his lips as he spoke but I was so mesmerized of the rich, deep sound of his voice that it didn't bother me a bit. "How much?" he simply stated, tilting his head, a cold smile on the corners of his mouth.
Maybe he had stunned me for a second, but I was way ahead of him. So part of his lunacy was his self esteem. Inspite of that poor try of cocky behavoiur I was sure there was none and a lot of it at the same time.
I gave a small laugh, blewing the smoke out of my lungs. "I don't qoute prices. My clients pay me what I deserve...sure you got enough?" There was a tease in the way I acted, the words I choosed, of course. But it wasn't a flirty one. This was about coming for him to guide him over the border his ethical values created. It wouldn't be that hard for him next time. They all got used to it pretty fast.
I definitly had made his composure stumble with that. For some heartbeats he just stood again, maybe talking, struggeling silently with himself, then he slowly followed my lead and sat down. Again he had undergone a change, back to that somehow transcedent, nearly frightend creature. I sighed, took the bottle of the desk and filled a waiting glass. Wordless I handed it to him, making sure my fingers brushed his, testing ground. He twitched just as I thought he would. Immediatly he leaned back and took a deep draft, then coming to a rest with his forearms on his knees, head ducked, taking a deep shaky breath.
Pace is crucial, dealing with someone like him. He was clearly balancing at the edge of his mind and it would be my task to keep him grounded. Who knew what was going on behind that impressivly green eyes, so beautiful on one hand, so withdrawn and haunted on the other.
I wondered if he was younger then his appearance told, aged by the constant Splatter-Movie he probably put his body through with that Adderoll that might been circling around his veins right at this very second.
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The sticky fetidness of old fries, sweat, smoke and a variation of other typical smells received me when I opened the door to the shabby diner he had asked me to come to. What I found inside didn't exactly raise my mood. Retro-furniture, old signboards, a seem-to-be perfect created bubble where time stands still – forever.
I knew I'd never get that thought. Why would people love time to stand still? Why linger around choices, you're only believe making on terms of free will? One way or another, you could never controll your live. All you could do was controll other people.
There was nothing I hated more then being on the oposite site. That was why Leons order to meet him had pissed me of. He knew I rarly left my place, my world. I didn't like the other realitys out there.
For some brief seconds I let my gaze wander, taking in all of those frustrated minds coming together at this strange place, like it was kind of a nexus for the lost.
I spotted Leons distinctive outline in one of the middle rows and hurried my self to take place at his table, starring him down from second one.
He inhaled sharply, leaned back and crossed his arms as he registered my discomposure. Being quite chatty normally he remained silent this time, holding my gaze, not backing up a bit. I sighed. There was no time for this. I needed to get back. Back to my world, my home, my perfectly created loop in which I was in control.
Crossing my forearms on the desk I leaned foreward, trying to look as open as I could given my current emotional situation. "What do you want?" I stated simple, not to annoyed but still certain.
The smile that spread across his face might have made other people relax, it totally gave him the look of that good, positive guy he liked to pretend he was. But I knew better. I knew his secret, so it didn't impress me.
"What. Do. You. Want?" I repeated my question, silently counting how long I would be able to stand this place.
"Ya know why I like watching that featureless TV Shows all day?" Leon began his speach and I let my head fall forward for a moment so my forehead met my arms, then faced him again.
"I don't give a fuck about your stupid TV Shows Leon, what the hell do you want?"
His grin got even wider, revealing his perfectly shiny white teeth, giving him the sight of a saint in this meltingpot of filth calling itself a restaurant. I could start to feel something crawling up my foot and twitched. Not good. Needed to end that conversation as fast as possible.
"See, I'm running out of time! I Have appointments to make so would you just tell me..."
"There's a guy I know." he interrupted me, and I didn't even had to hear one more word to know that I would regret coming here. "No, Leon." I said, stood up and was about to storm out as his hand shot up and closed around my wrist, violently enough to stop me in my motion, soft enough to not leave marks. "Sit down." he ordered quietly, not letting my hand go. I stared at the door. The shimmering light of the sun that produced a ray of clean light revealed the dirty tiles and it's concrete subculture of living creatures, small, nearly invisibly, totally hided to the eyes unless seen under further technical inspection.
There had been second thoughts when Leon ordered me here. Hew knew that I was weaker then him in his natural environment. Something that would have never happened being in mine.
Slowly I followed his lead and took place again. "You know I don't do new clients unless it get's necessary for me." I told him, knowing that wouldn't trail him of his intention.
He was more serious this time, still smiling with false comfort but more insistant, raising his volume. "Remember that guy that started to stalk you? The one you asked me to get rid of? Oh, his voice...he pleaded you know, he..." "Stopp!" I hissed, taking quick glances around making sure no one had listened, but finally givin in.
"Fine. You know that this is your one-time-chance-favor! You use it now, we're even and you'll never get another try! Sure you wanna spend that on some guy you know?"
This time it was Leon leaning forth, closing the gap between us, creating a bubble in a bubble in a world full of different realities. "That boy is so fucked up you might be his only chance." he instructed me calmly, letting his hand crawl over the desk, his fingers intertwine with mine, very consciously brushing his thump over my skin.
"Has some kind of crazy shit going on. Doesn't like to talk. Hates to be touched. Totally of the line. Asked me for some Adderoll lately. Gave it to him. Thought he would have known better but he seems to overact a little bit on that one. A big fucking little bit. Need to get him down somehow. He looks like the Reaper himself, ya know? All in black and that stuff...that 90's goth chic...ya know what I mean? I don't get it, anyway, I need you to ground him. At his rate of Adderoll his balls are going to burst in no time." Leon giggled at what he believed was a good joke.
"Serious? One of your junkies? Not going down that road, my friend!" In the same motion I wanted to stand up again Leon interlinked his fingers closer to mine.
"When Jesus began to speak to his apostles, not all of them we're persuadded by him from the beginning, did you know that? Some of them thought he had gone out of his mind and scrutinised about his motives. But soon they all came to the point where they recognized their first feeling on him had been true.I can't tell you why, but I got a feeling that this guy's not just a junkie. He may be a jesus...or the devil to our world. Thats what I need you to find out."
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"So what is it?" I asked as soft as I could. Slowly he turned his head and faced me, confusion written all over his face. A smile attending my words I got on. "Your name. What is it?" "I'm..." for a second he paused his speech while still moving his lips as if he would talk to himself again. "I'm Elliot." "Fine. Mine's Sky." Again he surprised me by smiling himself, but warmer, more real this time.
"No way." He held my gaze and I was struck by sympathy for him so sudden, that I needed to give myself a mental slap to get things together. He was insane. It was important to never forget about things like that. "Of course not. But my name doesn't matter." I gave back dry, taking a last draw out of my cigarette before killing it in the ashtray, then sitting back on the couch facing him again. Some minutes went till he spoke again. "So why does mine?"
As much as I loved the sound of his voice I knew that I had to take this to the next level. We were not there to become friends. We were there, because he probably wanted to buy the one thing from me all my clients longed for: closeness.
"Because this is about you, Elliot." very slowly I sat my glas beside, turned a little bit more to him and came closer, totally spotting the affect the use of his name in a low, raspy voice had on him, "You will tell me what you like and I will do everything to full fill your pleasure."
We were right face to face now and I sensed that he would back up. I let him do for once. He came back to his old position, sat his glas aside and absently rubbed his skull. "You know...Sky, right? I think that was a very dumb idea and I'll just..."
As I told before I was always patient. But I also knew when to react. I pushed myself up and right into the space between him and the backrest of the couch. It was big, so our bodies didn't touch before I raised my hands to his shoulders, just laying them on him, only my thumps slowly moving on the small space of exposed skin on his neck.
Elliot proverbial freezed and I held my breath. Not only he didn't move, he was stone cold. I kept my place, not going any further then giving his neck tiny rubs with the tip of my thumbs, waiting on a little sign of relaxation. It came very relucantly, subtle, as he lowered his head a bit, instinctivly giving me more access to himself. Letting my breath exhale I eased as much as I could in this position.
Still I kept a slow pace, working one of my magic tricks they all loved about me: I was able to slow down time by just shutting out the rest of the world and creating a bubble of closeness. There was only him and me, only two people in right in the middle of the universe, no sounds despite our breathing, no need for him to take an action of any kind.
Me instead startet to do what I could best: Giving the things he presumably missed, conclusions of my carefull observation of his earlier reactions.
I closed the gap between our bodys by creeping closer, not changing position of my hands but getting close enough to whisper right beneath his left ear.
"Your so tense, Elliot. You need to relax. Time has no significance in here you know? There's no need to cross borders nor speak truths. Just close your eyes...and feel."
This time I closed in more quickly, letting my Lips follow my words, sealing a promise on the pale skin of his neck.
Control. It's one of the most longed feelings in human minds all over the world. It's able to transform your circuits into a playground for all that wonderful, marvelous chemistry our bodies are capable off. She sends you flying, takes you as high as no outside effect could do and yet she takes all of your energy and kind of enslaves yourself.
I've learned that one of the most fascinating ways to gain control over people was the art of touch, which I studied, fathomed until it's very bottom in every possible variation you could think of. And in the one's you might not want to think about at all.
For this very moment I concentrated on the skills for relaxation. This wasn't about sex. This was about getting touched, letting some human contact happen and man...I could tell that this seemed to be the hardest thing for him.
As I brought one of my hands to his face, turning him more to me, starting to explore those life lines that had digged deep into his features, he started to shake, only a little bit first, but up to a whole tremble the closer I came to his lips.
I took my time, planting small kisses on his temple, his brows, down to his closed eyes, his nose...then let my lips brush his, very lightly, only on the edge of contact.
Still Elliot made no move. He seemed paralyzed, still uneasy with the situation, trembling, breathing superficial.
One last kiss on his jaw, then I slowly backed up and came to stand, gripping his hand, tugging softly. "Come with me." I whispered, not prepared for the feeling those big green eyes raised in me as he opened them and let me nearly drown in them. It took a lot of courage to held this gaze but in the end I won the battle and he followed, cautious, step by step.
I let him to my bedroom, closing the door behind us, then further to the bed. "Sit down." I got on, still as silent as possible, so soft he couldn't be scared of. He took the command raising his eyes again to mine as I stepped right before him, looking down.
Elliot showed no resistance nor action as I gripped the zipper of that hoodie and slowly undid it. He made no move as I brushed it of his arms, also as I reached for the brim of the black shirt underneath and tugged it of of him. Only his shaking won in intensity, his hands stayed right on his thighs as if he not dared to touch me.
I understood why he did so. Touching someone always created a debt. It required something in return. He would pay my touches...but I had nothing to give him for his. That's why he was here, why they all were. Being touched by me didn't relate them to me like it would have with any other woman, it didn't limit them in their actions. If they wanted to touch me, how they wanted to do it, was their decision. But being touched by me was just a service they bought.
"Lie down." I gave another soft spoken command and he followed, this time without hesitation. With small gestures I made him turn on his belly, lying outstreched right beside me, not facing me. That was the moment I was sure that I gained his trust. He was vulnerable like this, he couldn't see my actions, he couldn't study my face, all he could do was lying there, silently waiting for my next move.
It was a beautiful situation, feeling that struggle burning inside him, that upcoming fear of losing control on the situation, of not being able to decide how to be touched again. I could see it in the sweat that formed on his neck, the way he grapped the pillow between his fingers, with way too much power so his knuckles went white.
It was a breaking point but I had enough experience to know how to get us through this. While I let my handy making contact to the skin on his neck again, I made sure to speak loud enough this time. "Elliot." I called him, waiting until he hummed. "This is all yours. Your creating our reality tonight. I'm just the tool of your desires. You can start or stop my actions anytime. This one's all on you, nothing else in the world. Only you."
With that I cut off all conversation. There were no further words needed. I took of my jean, just like I would have done it going to sleep without a half naked stranger in my bed. This was why they loved me. There was no show...I've concentrated my existence to other types of the craft.
Slowly I got on the bed, settling myself on his lower back, carefully balancing the most part of my weight on my bent feet. My hands found their position easily now that they had been there once and without waiting I started to work his tensed muscles under my rolling fingers.
His shaking went off first, forcing me to catch my breath again, working against it with my steady pace. With every single movement, every inch of explored skin I got him used to, it died down until finally it's only leftover were small goosebumps where ever my fingers made contact.
It was such a pleasure to see my magic work. Seeing his body chemistry kicking in, hacked by some simple touches, some simple signs I had written on his skin. Taking over control over another human being by encoding the right ways to touch them, penetrating through their upset masks and faces to the deep real feelings they are longing for, full fill them...it was a god mode...a feeling that never gets old.
Like an exorcized demon a deep breath released him and with that the strain passed off his body, finally handing over control. I smiled. There it was, the moment they realised that I had been right all along. This was all about them. I heared what they pleaded from me. I gave them control...temporarly. Cause I was able to make them hand it off to me by choice and that was when I owned their souls.