Phoenix Rising

Part One

I sometimes got myself involved in matters I didn't quite understand. When that happened, Jeff Hardy was usually behind it. Jeff had ideas which always sounded intriguing. They piqued my interest.

One day, I would learn to stop listening to Jeff Hardy. Unfortunately, that day has not yet happened.

I had been in a rut, so to speak. Stuck doing the same shit day after day, week after week, and I was sick of it. Sick of the same faces and the same boring, inane conversations that amounted to absolutely nothing. Once sex became little more than a repetitive rutting action with a mediocre climax, I knew I had to do something about my life.

In a moment of desperation, I had turned to Jeff. I blamed my failing judgment on weakness. The thought of facing another New Year's Eve party fending off the advances of some sloppy drunk wearing too much cologne and hair gel nearly sent me to a monastery.

I needed something different. Something out of the ordinary from my strictly vanilla life. Jeff promised he could provide that much needed change.

The problem with having a best friend that knew me better than I could ever understand was that he knew my needs well before I did. As if he could see into the darkest corners of my mind and unlock the parts I kept hidden from myself. He brought my secrets to light, forcing upon me self-awareness that, on some occasions, I could have lived without.

When Jeff pointed out my lacking, it was from an instructive viewpoint. He wasn't trying to say that I was as boring as room temperature toast. Jeff wanted to help. To put a bit of spice into my life.

Cinnamon was a very lovely spice. Used to bring out the flavor in other ingredients. If you were to swallow a tablespoon full of it, however, you would try to rip your head off.

The first sprinkling of spice started on a website. Jeff refused to tell me the name of the site, saying only that I would receive an email in a day or two. Which I did, from some unknown person named Phoenix Rising. It was a simple message. An introductory greeting from which I gathered the sender knew more about me than I did about him.

I would have Jeff to thank for that.

Not fully knowing what my friend had gotten me mixed up in, I proceeded with caution. Kept the personal information to a minimum. I even gave myself a Handle.

Lion Heart.

Phoenix Rising took my trepidation in stride. He did not push or prod, yet there was an authoritative tone to his messages. He would lead the path and pace of the conversation. I was not allowed to gloss over a question with a glib or sarcastic answer. I could make inquiries of him, but it remained his prerogative to respond. I accepted that.

After nearly two months of correspondence, I realized that he knew everything about me, short of my actual named, address and phone number. His method of acquisition had been both direct and indirect. What might have been posed as a seemingly simple question extracted paragraphs from me. I had laid my soul bare to an absolute stranger.

I stopped writing. I refused to continue to have contact with someone whose name I did not even know. It proved fairly simple to avoid hearing from him. I simply quit checking my email. That decision, of course, led to a rather heated conversation with Jeff. From his tone, one would have thought I was slamming the door on the Prize Patrol come to gift me with one million dollars.

"You have to let go of your trust issues," Jeff said the moment I mistakenly let him through my front door. "This won't work unless you learn how to give up on control."

Despite our years of friendship, I took immediate offense. "You can hardly condemn me for not wanting to overly involve myself with someone like that."

"Someone like what?"

I could not put my feelings into words. Not ones that would help him understand. This mystery man had drawn me in faster than anyone in the past. I had told him things. Personal things. At first, I took comfort in the distance provided by the internet. He did not know my identity. I did not fear my secrets being spread. If necessary, I could end our communications simply by getting a new email address. No uncomfortable phone calls or face to face confrontations.

Then one day that blessed distance disappeared. He did not know my name, but he knew me. More intimately than my most long term lover. That our conversations would turn sexual was an inevitability. Few individuals used the internet to develop platonic relationships. Talk of general preferences soon became sensual and specific. The more he wanted to know, the more I wanted to tell him.

My guard was not so much let down as hurled across the room, never to be seen or heard from again.

At first, I had tried to impress him by being exceedingly kinky. Talking of spankings and gags and objects inserted wherever he liked. Surprisingly, he did not want that and express his displeasure. He sought the truth from me. He would accept no falsehoods or fabrications.

The disappointment I felt shocked me. It was at that moment that I realized how badly I wanted to please him. This man who I could not even pick out of a line up. I gave him every truth I had within me. Revealed how I longed to be touched and taken. Shared my innermost desires.

He was not after dirty talk for the sake of being pornographic. Still, I asked him if my desires made me a slut or a whore.

His response: No. You are beautiful and you are mine.

Sight unseen, this man had remarked upon my appearance based solely on the secrets I shared and claimed me for his own.

That was when I stopped responding.

It was one thing to talk freaky to some freak on the other end of some computer miles away. To provide jack off material or indulge in a quick session of cybersex. Phoenix Rising proposed something of a whole other caliber. I did not doubt that I got him off from time to time. He did the same for me. His, however, was an invitation for an intimate relationship that went beyond typed words on a screen. Not some quick fuck in a convenient motel room that didn't ask questions if their guests had no luggage. This Phoenix Rising would have me again and again, for as many days and nights as was possible.

I could not let that happen. The definite reasons eluded me. It was a feeling I had. A feeling caused by him whenever I thought about his hands in my hair or on my hips. I imagined the taste of his lips and that of his cock and wished to mingle the two flavors. The man had me wrapped around his little finger before it even touched me.

In the end, I told Jeff to drop the subject and kicked him out. My life was mine to live, even if it was lukewarm toast.

My resolve lasted two weeks.

I needed to see his response. Was he angry that I had abandoned our correspondence? Sad? Did it matter to him at all? Those questions nagged at me until I crumbled. I had to know.

Three messages. That was how many he had left me. One was a regular email, a continuation of our conversation. The next expressed slight concern at my lack of a reply. The last was surprisingly short. Only a ten digit phone number and two words.

Call me.

With my will already weakened, I had my phone in my hand and the number dialed before I could think better of it.

I prayed for it to go straight to voicemail. As it continued to ring, my hope changed to that of wanting him to miss the call.

He didn't.

A man I assumed to be Phoenix Rising picked up and I did not know what to say. I babbled about being told to call that number but not being sure who I was supposed to talk to because I didn't have a name to go by and that, in all likelihood, I had dialed the wrong number.

Out of breath and words, I waited. Would he hang up on this obviously deranged caller?

Nope.

He laughed. A deliciously dark sound that would have buckled my knees had I been standing. "You want to know my name, Lion Heart?"

So I had the right person after all. He posed a simple enough question. Except my brain was too wrapped up in the sound of his voice to provide a response. That deep timber shot straight to my groin. I wanted him to keep talking, even if it was only to read the phone book aloud.

"Are you still there?"

I managed to unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. "Yes." I panted like I had been running a mile. "I'm here."

"I thought you had gone away again."

There was no recrimination in his tone, but I felt guilty nonetheless. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. All that matters is that I have you now. I do have you, don't I?"

He had me on the edge of my seat, but I knew that was not what he meant. "Yes."

"Say it," he ordered. "Say it so I know you understand."

I hesitated only to draw in a much needed breath. I shook as a sudden raw need overwhelmed me. This would be more than a little fun time in the dark to pass a boring evening. I knew then that this man would have me screaming his name until I had no voice and arching my back until I feared my spine would snap. Fulfillment came only once he slid inside me and permitted my release. Could I hand over control and have faith that my trust would not be abused?

"You have me." I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. "I'm yours."

That was the first night I came to the sound of his voice.