Double Edged

I can’t believe that my rental car has stalled...and here I am, out in the middle of nowhere! I find a map in the glove box but it’s not much help I can’t find this dirt road I’ve ended up on anywhere on it. I’m not surprised.

I think about calling you with my cell phone and decide not to. You can come find me when I don’t show up at your door on time. After all, this was your idea, to meet out here in your cabin for the weekend. I can’t believe I let you talk me into it. We could have stayed in the city at either of our apartments, but no, you wanted to come out here and be "one with nature".

Well, at least the car has died in a semi-shaded spot. I get out to look around, but there’s not much to see...just more road and more trees, neither of which will help me. I can feel myself start to sweat. (It was 90 when I last checked the outside temperature.)

I climb back into the car, since by getting out and walking around it, I haven't accomplished anything but making myself hot and thirsty. I try the key again and (surprise, surprise!) nothing happens. I try turning the key backwards and the radio comes on. I leave it on. I have no qualms about running the battery down, its not like the car is going to need it. I roll down the window and lay the seat back. I might as well get comfortable while I wait.

I check my watch (I’ve been here 15 minutes). The car is starting to feel like an oven. I turn it off and take the keys to open the trunk. I've worn jeans and a t-shirt to drive in, but I’ve packed shorts and a tank top, in case the cabin’s A/C is on the blitz. I change quickly. I don’t know why, its not like there’s anything out here to see me except a few random squirrels maybe a few chipmunks.

I laugh at the thought as I drop my clothes back into the trunk, and then I hear the leaves rustling behind me. I stop laughing and look around. I don’t see anything but, nervously, I slam the trunk closed and hurry to the side of the car. Just as I reach for the door, a large hand closes over my mouth. I kick and struggle and try to scream, my nails clawing at the fingers over my mouth, but to no avail. A strong arm holds me pinned to a large, hard body.

Then I hear it, that unmistakable click and the feel of cool steel as it is pressed into my neck. I am instantly still, I need no further convincing. The hands holding me relax a little but the pressure from the knife never lessens. Then, a whisper in my ear.

"Don’t scream."

I nod (just barely) and the hand falls from my mouth. I gulp in tiny breaths of air, wary of sucking in too much with the knife still pressed at my jugular. A soft cloth is placed in my hands and then brought up to my eyes. Again the whisper, soft and almost soothing.

"Put in on, and make it tight.”

I do as I’m told and once I’m blindfolded the whisper comes once more.

"Can you see anything?"

"No." I whisper back, afraid to shake my head, hoping he won't mind me speaking. I didn't scream and I could barely hear my own whispered reply.

The knife leaves my throat. He runs the point down my neck; down my over the tops of my breasts, which are barely visible at the collar of my shirt, and then he rests the point at my ribcage. My hands are clasped in his behind my back.

"Walk."

I can't see anything and I take one shaky step.

"Faster."

The knife digs into my side just a little and I make my steps a little quicker. I hope he'll be my eyes and not let me fall or walk into anything, it would be to his disadvantage if he did. I would have a chance to get away. My steps become surer, I can tell that we've left the road and we're walking into the woods. He weaves us around trees I assume, then tells me to stop. The knife digs even deeper into my side.

"Don't run, I'll catch you."

His voice never rises above the whisper he first used. My hands are released. I stand perfectly still, waiting. The knife digs in deeper and I wince, but I still don’t move away. After he pulls away the knife, I take in some larger gulps of air. I'm still not moving, and I can’t see but I can hear his breath close behind me.

Another sound comes... I hear him ripping something and then he has my hands again and he's pulling me to the ground. I don’t resist, the feel of the knife in my side still a fresh memory. He ties my hands above my head, to what I'm not sure. It doesn't feel like a tree. Then the knife is back, pressed at my throat. It glides down my neck and, this time, between my breasts. My shirt falls open at his slight tug. There's no doubt that the blade is sharp, my shirt is sliced through like it was nothing more than hot butter. The straps at my shoulders are gone in seconds.

The point of the blade is dancing lightly across my stomach, up my sides, underneath the edge of my bra... I shiver and it stops. He slides the knife down between my breasts again, this time my bra meets the same fate as my shirt. He pushes the now useless material away. He never uses his hands or fingers on me, just the sharp blade and its point. With feather-like touches he circles first one breast and then the other, my nipples hardening under the cool steel tip as it passes ever so lightly over them.

He moves away now, and but I can still feel his eyes on me. I can tell he’s staring at me, I can hear it in his breathing. I wait, wondering where his blade will tease me next, and then I feel it or, rather, I feel the air as my shorts are sliced away as effortlessly as my other clothes. The point is then tracing my panties, almost caressing along the top. Again, with more force along my hips cutting the silken fabric but not my flesh.

I’m lying naked before him now, wet with anticipation, and wanting the blade to caress my skin again. Finally, it does, but not like I expected. I feel it heavy on my stomach just above my navel. Heavy because he’s no longer holding it. Heavy because he’s lain it on my stomach. Heavy because it's just lying there and I crave the feel of it. The handle is hot like fire from where he’s been holding it so long. The other end the blade, still cold as ice, only connects with my skin when I take in deep breaths. It hovers barely a hair's width over my skin, the handle just thick enough to keep it from fully resting on me.

He touches me for the first time since he released my hands hours ago, or was that only minutes ago, perhaps it was only seconds...time has lost all meaning now. The only thing that holds meaning at this moment is the weight on my stomach, the fire and ice, and his hands.

They start at my knees. Slowly he drags them up my thighs, nudging my legs further and further apart. I arch my hips up, eager for his touch as his fingers find me. Slow gentle circles at first. Tempting me, torturing me, teasing me... Then he slips two fingers inside me, his knife play has left me wet and wanting. This is the only encouragement I need to come the first time.

He puts his other hand on my stomach. Whether to hold me down or catch the knife I’m not sure, but he accomplishes both as he waits for my pleasure to subside. With expert skills he takes me right to the brink of pleasure once more. Then, keeps me there for a very long time stopping and starting, slower and faster, gentle and harder, deep and then deeper finally allowing me over the edge, and then pushing me over several more times.

He’s kissing me as I come again violently for the... I’m no longer sure how many times this will make, with his fingers still deep within me, with the knife still lying on my stomach, and now with his tongue tasting every corner of my mouth.

I’m still catching my breath as he releases my hands. He picks me up, and I rest my head on his shoulder as he carries me through the woods... Too tired to care which direction, to exhausted to notice that my hands are free and I could remove the blindfold, too spent to do anything but lie there in his arms. I hear the gravel crunch beneath his feet and I know that we are back at the road, even before he sets me down on the cold hood of my car.

I hear him walking away from me. I raise my hands up and hear him speak from somewhere behind.

"Not yet."

So I drop my hands from the blindfold and wait. The trunk of the car opens and I start to panic. Funny, how I pick now to finally start. But then with relief I hear it shut again.

Once more I hear that click in my ear as he reopens the knife, and I instantly start thinking back, trying to remember when he closed it, when I'd last felt the cold steel on my burning flesh. It must have been when he cut my hands free, but it doesn’t matter, the blade has found my skin once again.

Gently cupping my face with one hand, he runs the knife down the other side, caressing my cheek, and then I feel the blindfold fall away. It takes only a second for my eyes to adjust to the light. It's not that bright out anymore, the sun has already started falling from the horizon, but he’s already gone as quickly as he appeared.

I look down at my hands to find that I’m holding the knife, and my clothes are folded neatly on the hood of the car beside me, and my keys are lying on top of them.

I wonder if he was even really here, I feel like I’m waking from a dream. But the knife I’m still holding and the faint red lines circling my wrists prove I've done more than dream the past several hours.

I get dressed and climb into the car. As the engine purrs to life the cell phone rings. It’s you on the other end. I smile as I hear your voice again, soft and whispering in my ear once more. I do so love it when you whisper.

"Did you enjoy that?"

I don’t even have to think as I reply, "Yes."

"Good." You say, and then, as you hang up, "Decide where and how you want to play next weekend and give me a call."

I hang up the phone, put the car into drive and start home. I find myself smiling as I begin to wonder how many more sharp blades you can leave with me...