The Will of Astrid

I was inspired to write this from a picture that captivated me. Unfortunately, my muse ran away with me leaving no way to complete this in one installment. Starting slow it gets pretty psychologically erotic as the story goes. It is not as overtly sexual as most stories tend to be on this site, though I believe it can be.

Long story short, I would love to know from the readership if this is something I should flesh out as a long piece. If you are interested, let me know and I will keep stitching away at the sensual threads. Thanks!

*****

Mallory pulled a coil of hair back from her cheek for the fortieth attempt, only to have it fall back down. All of it was supposed to be pulled up into a cute top knot deal; but rushing to get to the elevator had let one impolite clump wiggle out. Now she was sitting in this little but expensively decorated office trying not to sound too eager.

"Well yes, I have a background in performing. Dance mostly... well, and I learned some contortionism when I was with the ahhh, Solar Circus." Tremulous words and scattered thoughts.

She was blowing it!

She closed her eyes to calm her mind, cleared her thoughts and breathed for control. "Oh and I can play the viola. I mean I am no Chinese prodigy but- Oh, that sounded snarky didn't it?" Her mouth clamped shut, her eyes closed and she wanted to cry.

Yes, she was blowing it.

He chuckled at her. "It is ok, I get it. Would you like a drink or something?" His smile seemed real enough. Was his accent...Russian?

Ramon, Raphael, maybe Raul; Mallory fumbled with his name. His face was carved from wood, facial features sharply exaggerated with a pronounced brow bone and notched chin. His skin more of an olive color. The suit he wore was expensive but he wore it uncomfortably, neck and arms strained against the fabric to burst out of their confines. She was sure he was some sort of acrobat or contortionist who was somehow grounded to this desk job and interviewing silly flakes like her. She shook her head no and tried to look him in the eye.

"That is fine." R-man dismissed the offer smoothly. "If I may go on, Miss Mallory, how did you hear about us needing a new troupe performer?"

She knew why he was asking. She did some extensive searching of the group known as Intempora Faim and came up with little more than what her friend told her. Only people who partied above the 100th floor of jewel encrusted buildings knew anything about them. An elite performance group that specialized in lavish events for people who make celebrities look destitute. The average person would never know about them, let alone be able to walk into their corporate offices.

"Well, um yes, my friend Beatrice said she was sending both of our audition reels to you, I mean your company. I do not know where she heard of you. But that was months ago. I got an email to interview so-" She made the exaggerated jogging arms motion. As soon as she completed it she wanted to crawl under her chair. "I thought I would come down."

He just sat there, for what seemed to be an eternity, puzzling her out. His golden eyes bored through her. She was praying that she was not wincing. When he looked at the rest of her she felt fully exposed under his gaze, he knew exactly how her body looked in any position naked. She squirmed in her seat, her face warmed and she turned her head.

His words finally snapped the room back to normalcy. "Well, Miss Mallory, I think I have enough information here." He leaned over and placed his arms on the top of the oak desk , the suit straining against his rope coiled shoulders as the sleeves pulled up past his wrists. He spoke intently with a stern, fatherly expression. "You must understand, we do not have personal lives here, everyone is committed to their craft 16 hours a day. If you have a special someone or many friends, this place is not your fit."

"Oh no! You're my fit. I mean..." He looked at her entire body again. Her legs snapped together as she averted her gaze to the desktop. "I hardly see anyone and I have not been dating for months. I believe I will fit in well... in this company."

His eyes smiled, but his words kept the serious tone. "You may Miss Mallory. We have a few contracts for you to sign and employment forms."

Mallory nodded. R-man stood and she took his full body in. She imagined how he would look under his silk suit. A brilliant spectacle of a man that would make her insides ache. She could tell that each muscle was expertly crafted to work with the other and that included his abdomen. Realizing that she was gawking, she busied herself with the bratty tendril of hair that was laying against her cheek. R-man left the room, giving Mallory a respite from her insufferable embarrassment.

All at once, it hit her. She was going to be hired! Not a moment too soon; besides being a barista or store clerk there are not many job options when you have been trained to dance, twist your body into impossible positions and breathe fire while playing the violin. Her last 'real' paycheck was over a month ago. There was little in the fridge and bills were mounting.

In moments R-man returned with a stainless steel dossier. She scrawled signature after signature after signature. Some contracts were explained in great detail while others were rushed through, often given the explanation of a 'formality' or 'due to the type of clientele we have, precautions must be taken'.. In this line of work there was always more paperwork; injury waivers, non-disclosures, performer insurance, most normal jobs did not have as many circumstances. This was an entirely different situation, Mallory felt it would be easier to get a top secret clearance for the military. After an hour and a half she had finally come to the end of the dossier.

"The entry level pay is one hundred, seventy five thousand a year." R-man explained at the last form.

"Ok. Wait, a hundred and seventy five thousand?" Mallory breathed out the words with a squeak in her throat at the end.

"Yes, this is not to your liking?" R-man seemed annoyed.

"No, no, absolutely not. That is a great number. I am really happy with that number." She had never made more than sixty thousand a year and in the matter of a few hours she would be making three years of salary during the best time of her life. She could not wrap her mind around the number. This was happening so fast and so strangely, Mallory felt entranced and powerless. She blankly wondered what could possibly happen next.

R-man frowned a little. "I am sorry Miss Mallory, I have not been fully honest with you. You do not have a position with us yet."

Mallory blinked twice. "I'm sorry?"

"You see, all of the contracts had to be signed before you enter, due to legalities. It is then that you are to speak with my employer. If she accepts you, then you start your position with us." R-man weakly smiled, which did not suit his face and looked surreal. "But now we can go back if Miss Mallory is ready."

Distantly in Mallory's mind, this reminded her of video games. The inevitable scene where you are about to enter the lair of a boss and the game asks if you are ready to proceed. there are no saves from this point on and you must be prepared. Mallory could not think of anything that she could do to prepare, so she plunged in.

"That is ok, Ra-" What was his name, she was perturbed with herself. "...Sir, we can go now."

R-man walked to the oak wall behind his desk , pulled or gripped something and the wall swung away like a vault door, revealing a wide hallway of black tile and slate grey walls.

Epic video game boss lair unlocked.

She followed that stunning male figure down the long stretch of hallway. He moved like a jaguar. Just a little taller than Mallory, he was shorter than most men, yet fully proportional. He was a super hero sewn into a silk suit.

On either side of the wide hall were glass windows that revealed rehearsal studios. Almost all of them were occupied with abnormally beautiful people doing amazing things. In one, a group of near naked balancers were paired in male and female couples holding poses like sensual statues. they moved from one combination to the next ever so slowly. Curves and muscles pivoting seamlessly like two lovers underwater, teasing one another until the inevitable erotic embrace.

In another studio, scantily clad dancers were undulating in a fashion that was between ballet and belly dancing. It was then that Mallory began to notice something peculiar. Even the musicians were barely clothed while practicing or on break talking. Mallory had been around performing people for six years. Even if the costume they wore were not somewhat revealing, the performers usually practiced in sweats or something that was easy to move in, until stage rehearsals began. Yet, everyone looked as though they were in a strange lingerie modeling show.

"Uh, why is everyone barely dressed?" She could not help but to ask.

R-man never turned around. "Astrid wants all performers to be fully comfortable with their own skin. Our clients can have sensuous tastes and we must be able to fully accommodate that."

Mallory could not imagine ever getting used to the idea of being nearly fully stripped for 16 hours a day. She resigned herself to the idea that the pay compensated for the discomfort and to be around these people, she needed to exercise more.

The hallway ended with large ornate silver doors, two additional halls split left and right. R-man turned right. Besides the occasional stark piece of artwork in monochrome and red, this hallway was much less palpitating than the previous one. Mallory was relieved.

Towards the end of this hallway, R-man lead her up a wide silver spiral stair case. At the top stood red double doors nearly ten feet high. The doors were carved with what looked to be tons of contortionists intertwined. R-man escorted Mallory in.

The room was regal and intimidating. As tall as two stories and three times as long, the room was an oval that laid out in front of Mallory. Four arched windows on either side, stretched to nearly the height of the ceiling, bathing the room in light. Directly in front of Mallory, a wide, wrought iron stair case that ran up, half of the height of the room, gave entrance to the mezzanine floating and wrapping around the entire circumference of the space. Ornate antique chandeliers hung on the left and the right playing the light of the windows in constellations along the wall and floor. White leather and cherry wood lounging couches accompanied by tables lay about the bottom floor in convenient areas for viewing the center of the room and the glorious view of the city below. Assistants, artists and seamstress busied themselves at stations that were created for preproduction.

Boss level indeed.

"Miss Astrid, Mallory Hayworth for your approval." R-man's voice resounded in the cavernous chamber.

"You will give me a moment Radmir." It came from the wrought iron stairs in front of Mallory. The female's voice bit the end of the sentence as a command.

Radmir, No wonder Mallory did not remember it. Though she doubted his name would ever be forgotten after today.

A noise behind took her from her thoughts. She turned to see a door giving way, above the one she entered, on the mezzanine. More scantily dressed individuals came through. Most all of these people were wearing what looked to be cream ribbon masterfully wrapped around perfect bodies, each wearing a full faced, silver mask with sparse blue designs. Per each two to three masked persons there was a man or a woman that was well dressed with them. Along the back curve of the room, on the mezzanine, were a series of six, oval alcoves. They reminded Mallory of VIP booths in posh night clubs. Each had plush, half circular gem blue couches, a silver table in the center and a matching light hanging above. The well to do individuals sat in the center of their personal booth and were flanked by their masked counter parts. Masquerade groupies.

"Radmir is it? Who are they?" She pointed to the royalty holding court above them.

"They are not here for you. Those are our most prestigious patrons. They are allowed to see some of Astrid's inner workings." Again he never turned around.

Mallory turned back to the staircase in front of her to see Astrid descending down in a polished fashion. Mallory swallowed hard. Astrid was unreal. All of the energy in the room was pulled to swirl around her. A full dominating presence, starkly beautiful, judging and beyond this reality. She wore a hybrid of a high end evening dress and a royal gown. Her wide collar dipped down to cleavage and was akin to Tudor royalty, adorned with ivory feathers that spiked as high as her ear line. Cream and intricately embroidered, the floor length dress was skin tight and flared mid thigh to her feet. The dress clasped with odd silver latches, from half way down her cleavage to an abrupt end right below her navel it split open revealing red panties as she sashayed. A rose hidden within embroidered petals. Its only match was a ruby gem suspended around her neck.

Thin, porcelain and severely prepossessing; her face was painted in ivory with dark eye shadow that fully encompassed her eye socket; it looked applied with little to know skill, but still somehow aesthetic. Astrid's lips glossed the color of rose with a white strip vertically down the center of both lips. Her hay colored hair was pulled up in a top knot as well but then fell around her cheeks and back of her head in the same erratic fashion as her eye shadow. Steel colored irises cut the inky sockets to stop hearts with a glare. Her age was timeless, she could be as young as 28 or as old as 50, there was no way of telling. The Matron was taller than most men with a ballerina's figure except much fuller breasts and wide shoulders.

Mallory felt small, plain and clumsy. This woman was a living specter and Mallory could hear the moans of tortured souls in the room.

The Boss emerges and the fight begins.

"What is this that you have brought me?" Astrid demanded as she walked closer to be face to face with Radmir. Her voice was smooth, with a British and French accent co-mingling in the same words.

Radmir responded. "This is Mallory Hayworth, Miss Astrid."

"Hello Miss Astrid, I am -" Mallory's words were cut off.

"I did not speak to you, do not speak to me." Astrid never even looked at Mallory.

"Radmir, why must you waste my energy? I have not the time to deal with this wilted thing." Her hand motioned towards Mallory as if waving away unsightly trash. At Astrid's words, Mallory's postured straightened.

Radmir responded but Mallory did not understand the words. Astrid began to speak quickly in response. Both were conversing in a Slavic language that Mallory had no knowledge of. She felt more foolish by the second. She strained to infer their conversation by tone and body language but instead found herself staring at the face of Astrid. The beauty of her was bizarre to Mallory. An unquantifiable power and sensuality. Mallory could never see herself becoming this regal and intense, not in three lifetimes of experience. The ghostly moans seemed to grow louder and sent her organs to peculiar spasms. Astrid's face turned in slow motion to face Mallory. Surely she was imagining the power of this woman. Her face paint, wardrobe and this room must be designed to intimidate. Mallory fought with her quaking organs and the visage of this woman.

"Daft and mediocre, fine qualities indeed." Astrid had asked Mallory a question and she had missed it. Mallory scrambled through her mind, hoping the question was locked in her subconscious.

"I am sorry Miss Astrid." Mallory dropped her gaze from the queenly woman.

"Again. Why is it that you wiggle around on stage?" Mallory looked up to see Astrid's eyes cutting through her as the woman made a dismissive sweeping motion with her left hand.

"If you are asking why I dance-" She was cut off by the alpha.

"Yes girl. You can flit about on a stage, but you are not trained from a child are you?" Astrid's words stung Mallory. She was right, besides a few classes in high school, Mallory did not pursue dancing seriously until she was an adult.

"Well no, but-" Again she was bowled over.

"And now, you somehow find yourself standing before me." Astrid took a step towards Mallory. "Do you honestly believe this is within your reach?" The words slashed at Mallory's self worth. Astrid came closer still. Almost on top of her, Mallory pulled her eyes up to meet the woman's. The oppressive woman's chin, while looking down upon her, came to Mallory's eye brow. She could feel the Dowager's warm breath on her nose and lips. Sweet smelling and pleasant.

Mallory was stupid, timid, ugly and inconsiderate for wasting this woman's time. The ghosts moaned louder in the room and her insides twisted. Darkly hypnotic and desperate, Mallory's reason began to drown in intimidation. Her internal acknowledgement of this stirred her indignation. She had come for an audition, not to be belittled. She needed this job, but she was not going to get it by being verbally slapped around by an entitled bitch. If the job was a lost cause regardless of what she said, then she may as well leave with her head up.

"Well, yes." She shot back her own catty eyes and pushed her jaw out. "You people called me here. I didn't just show up begging." Astrid opened her mouth but Mallory quickened her words and raised her own curt tone. "And seeing as you are so busy, you can either let me perform an audition for you or we can stop wasting each other's time." A ghost wailed and Mallory's knees quaked. She realized she was on her tip toes and slowly lowered herself back to her heels. Regret tickled her spine and the moaning in her head quickened her breath. None of that mattered now, she was going to stand her ground.

Astrid slid her face even closer to Mallory's. She inhaled that honeyed breath again. Did Astrid just quirk a smile at her? She could not be sure, if it did happen it came and went so fast that it could very well have been imagination giving her hope.

"I do not need to see you dance." Astrid turned and walked back to where she had started with her back to Mallory. As if by command a man appeared with a paper for her to view, which she nodded to and the man walked away with purpose.

"Tell me about college, girl." Astrid asked the question before turning toward Mallory to stab at her with those steel eyes. The woman was living theatre, every move, every word was planned for emphasis. At least the ghosts were quieter for the time being.

Mallory had not thought about college in years as though it never existed. That was another version of herself, a long forgotten friend she no longer kept in contact with.

"I - I went to Cornell." She tried to keep her curt tone but it was faltering.

"Psychiatry I believe, yes?" Astrid tilted her head to the side.

Mallory spun inside. How did this woman know this? Since coming here she could not keep sensibility grounded under her feet. Each time she could acclimate to her surroundings something else swept her into a tempest. Little to nothing made sense.

"So why did you not finish your degree?" Astrid dismissively inquired.

"I felt more alive performing, like it was what I was really meant to do. There was nothing more there for me, nothing I could ever truly become." The truth spilled out of her unfiltered. Mallory was stunned at her own words and the sense of relief at surrendering them. A long high pitched wail sent Mallory's head spinning.

Astrid's eyes flashed accomplishment. "So there it is, is it?" She motioned absently with her left hand. "Turn around girl, let us have a look at you." Then she flashed a secretive grin at Mallory.