Dom Diaries: Black Sheets Read online

  Black Sheets

  Dom Diaries

  A.R. vidal

  Contents

  “Every Day You Play” by Pablo Neruda

  Untitled

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Copyright © 2019 by A.R. Vidal

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Dead Daisy Press

  1233 Pennsylvania Avenue

  San Francisco, CA 94909

  www.deaddaisy.com

  Ordering Information:

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  “Every Day You Play” by Pablo Neruda

  Every day you play with the light of the universe.

  Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.

  You are more than this white head that I hold tightly

  as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.

  You are like nobody since I love you.

  Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.

  Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?

  Oh, let me remember you as you were before you existed.

  Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.

  The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.

  Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.

  The rain takes off her clothes.

  The birds go by, fleeing.

  The wind. The wind.

  I can contend only against the power of men.

  The storm whirls dark leaves and turns lose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.

  You are here. Oh, you do not run away.

  You will answer me to the last cry.

  Cling to me as though you were frightened.

  Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.

  Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,

  and even your breasts smell of it.

  While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies

  I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.

  How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,

  my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.

  So many times, we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,

  and over our heads the gray light unwinds in turning fans.

  My words rained over you, stroking you.

  A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.

  I go so far as to think that you own the universe.

  I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,

  dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.

  I want

  to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

  Love fucking hurts and I adore the pain.

  Don’t get me wrong I knew she wasn’t like the others, but I had no idea how different she was.

  From day one, when our eyes met, I belonged to her. I gave her control; I gave her my heart and she ...she gave me her trust...her body.

  We had something unique and dark, and we fed it our deepest desires and it devoured them consuming us with it.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank You

  Sara Gonzales Editor

  Victoria Craig Alpha Reader

  Elizabeth Gardner Formatting

  And last, but not least you, the readers!

  Chapter One

  Here I am, faced with grave uncertainty. I mean does it even really matter. Sure, the wrong choice could haunt me for the rest of my life. It’s a big decision. I must be careful and take my time. But is Egyptian cotton better? I mean is it worth the twenty-one dollars more than satin? This just may be the most difficult choice one could face. Lost inside the linens and more aisles buried within floral patterns and colorful but tasteless bedding I feel my legs becoming weak. Nonetheless some things can’t be rushed, and I can’t be too hasty.

  However, here’s the real dilemma, if they are so much better than all the rest, why have all these other below quality options, when clearly there should only be one? Let’s take a moment to think about the consequences of a premature purchase. Experts say seven to eight hours of uninterrupted sleep is required for a person in their late thirties to perform to the best of their ability. Uninterrupted, is the key here. So, let’s say I buy the cheap white polyester set. Sure, they look like the cotton ones but that’s all they really have in common.

  Not that I would make that mistake twice. But let’s say I did. I’m up all night fixing the fitted corner that keeps popping off the mattress.

  Then there’s that rough scratchy fabric rubbing against my skin, not to mention the goddamn static. I hate fucking static!

  I mean I can struggle through the half on half off sheet, and there’s cream for irritated skin, but there's no cure for fucking static.

  Just the thought of that velcroing sound of the sheet peeling away from my silk sleep pants.

  The sheer thought alone sends an array of shivers down my spine. Come Monday, I can't wait to get to work and take it out on my unsuspecting colleagues. Pacing my office like a pit-bull waiting for some poor victim to stick their head into my cage.

  I’m slamming coffee like a fucking recovering alcoholic at an AA meeting, hiding yawns like they’re fucking illegal behind short insults and dirty looks. There's not a chart invented to rate this level of irritability.

  The hell I would unleash would be biblical. Fire falling from the sky engulfing the uptight asses in business suits being reduced to nothing more than ashes in my presence. Suddenly a sultry voice behind me says.

  “I would go with the Egyptian, but in the black.”

  It’s as if the stranger has been watching me. And out of pity and kindness, chose to put me out my misery. Out of gratitude for her humanness I ask.

  “Black? Why black?”

  “White is just so plain.” She explains.

  A simple response but a strong defense.

  “Black is so dark… grim and also plain don’t you think?” I say calmly flirting, hiding my nervousness by keeping my eyes forward.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude." She says. Almost daring me to pursue her in conversation. A moment of silence she proceeds;

  “Okay look, black is plain yes. But it’s a symbol. It’s not just about the sheets it's about the code. White is represented by all that's good, yawn. But black, oh black says you’re a bad... bad boy with evil, fun intentions. Just hear me out, imagine you’re on a hot date, you’ve been working her, and you have finally worn her down and she says the words you've waited to he
ar pass from her lips all night.”

  “Let's go back to your place.”

  “You're in the kitchen popping the cork on a bottle of wine you've been saving just for an occasion such as this. With your back turned she's running recon in your bedroom. With time for only a glance, what’s the first thing she sees? White plain boring sheets. She’s thinking another unsatisfying night that will only end in her and a toy finishing up at home. She begins to plan her exit strategy and you’re left holding your cock and a sock. But if they were black, her mind begins to conjure, stirring all her filthiest thoughts and unspeakable acts she plans to do to you. Just hoping you won’t judge her over breakfast in the morning for that thing she asked you to do with your finger praying it wasn’t too disgusting for you not to invite her back.”

  Well played stranger. Using sex, is a dirty move. But I can’t blame her for going below the belt. She sensed my weakness and went in for the kill. I can’t help but be intrigued.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name?” I say looking over my shoulder giving in to the urges of my curiosity. And I’m suddenly breathless.

  My God, her smile seems to steal the light from the sun, and I can’t help but melt within it. Our eyes meet for the first time and I wonder how I’ve ever lived without seeing such beauty.

  “Maybe because you didn’t ask.” She says reaching past me for a pair of red silk pillowcases. She’s sassy, I like it.

  Leaning in as she leans over, I breathe in her sweet and seductive scent.

  Not a perfume or lotion, nothing you can buy but an aroma that she can only own.

  “Ava.” she says with a blushing grin.

  She doesn’t know she has me.

  “Ava.” The way it rolls off the tip of her tongue so elegantly and with such grace.

  As if that name couldn’t or wouldn’t belong to anyone other than her.

  “Beautiful and unique but fitting for you if I may be so bold to say so.”

  Using her finger to brush a wild blond strand from her rosy cheek and for a moment I become enraged with jealousy, jealous that it gets to touch her fair smooth skin whenever it desires, and I cannot.

  “Do you have a name?” She asks.

  “Forgive me, I’m Noah.” I quickly rejoin.

  “Noah, simple, strong, handsome, it suits you.”

  “Well, I’ll see you around Noah... hope you enjoy your new sheets and I think you’ll find the finger thing pretty cool.” She says.

  And like that I’m left clinching the dark linens to my chest. Do I run after her, or call out her name like scene scripted from a movie on the big screen? Do I hope that by some rare chance of fate our paths will pass again like what's written in the pages of a book?

  Or do I just let her slip through my fingers like I’ve done countless times before?

  One thing I do know, watching her walk away is like observing poetry in motion.

  The way a blue poke–a-dotted sundress can play as her accomplice simply by draping over her hips like a partially wrapped present.

  Swishing back and forth, teasing that there's more than just the pink lace trim that peeks from under the skirt with every step she takes.

  Fuck it!

  “Ava, wait!”

  “Yes?” she asks pausing and turning towards me.

  One syllable but such a powerfully frightening response. Clumsily stumbling over my words, I finally just ask;

  “Would you like to grab dinner or a drink sometime... with me?”

  How fucking cliché was that?

  Bet she hasn't heard that one before. Bracing myself I grip the sheets tighter.

  “Do you have a phone?” She asks sauntering back my way.

  “Yes...yes I do.” I answer.

  Stopping inches from me I can feel her warm subtle breath land gently on my face when she speaks.

  “Let me give you a hand since yours seem to be busy at the moment, which pocket?”

  “Left.” I mutter.

  Reaching in I think she purposely brushes against my cock as she pulls out my phone. Or it could just be wishful thinking.

  “Pin?”

  First time I don't think twice;

  “Zero-five-one-four.” Her dainty yet nimble fingers quickly tap on my phone.

  “There, call me.” She says slipping it back where she got it from.

  Stalking her with my eyes, impatiently waiting for her to disappear around the corner.

  I empty my hands onto the floor and fumble for my phone.

  “Listen I know we just talked but even that seems so long ago...how about tonight?”

  I become unraveled in the long pause.

  “I’m checking out, you are aware I’m still in the same store, but yeah, sure is eight too late?”

  “I was hoping you would find it charming. No, it's perfect.”

  “Good, I'll text you the address, see you then.”

  I will count the minutes.

  Chapter Two

  I've put this same ugly grey and blue tie on twice, it doesn't make it any better. I feel lied too, deceived by a highly skilled sales assassin who’s programmed to say shit like

  “It brings out your eyes and you have the perfect skin tone, it's like it was made just for you.”

  Face it, it's going to take more than a fucking designer tie to hide all my insecurities.

  I would have more success hanging myself with it from my apartment rafters then impressing a girl like Ava.

  Great, just what I need, sweaty pits, accelerating heartbeat and a shirt that doesn't disguise any of it very well. I should just bail, I should call her and tell her I caught a stomach bug, or my mother died.

  She seems like a compassionate and understanding woman. It’s not as if it’s plausible we would ever have one of those encounter’s months from now.

  The one where I run into Ava on a crowded Chicago sidewalk and she puts her hand on my shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze of condolence.

  And I struggle with faking my way through my invented grief, as we both pretend to ignore that I’m nothing more than a fucking liar. But, with my luck, yes, that's exactly what would happen. Just suck it up, take a deep breath. She’s just a woman, and it's just a date, that's it.

  Sure, she could be everything I ever wanted but I at least need to show up to find out.

  Not too shabby. I've hidden the carnage and scraped together what looks like a man with his shit in place. A poll in G.Q says looks are only forty-seven percent of the attraction.

  By all statistics I’m halfway there. It's the other fifty three percent I’m worried about. However, with an impatient Uber driver laying on his horn out front I will have to save the rehearsal for the backseat.

  Never has anything this important rested on a button up shirt and pressed slacks as it does this very second.

  I quickly spot her, not even the door behind me has time to close before I have her in my cross hairs. Ava stands waving me over to our table.

  I pause and my eyes slowly devour every visible inch of her. It's as if she's the only woman in the filled dining room.

  Just when I thought it wasn't possible for Ava to be any more attractive, the low-cut pearl colored dress pleasantly proves me wrong.

  “Hi Noah, hope the place wasn't too hard to find.”

  She says greeting me with a kiss on the cheek. I hadn't been out with a woman since my ex, but I hope it’s like riding a bike it’s something one never forgets.

  Then in the welcoming clutch my hand innocently falls onto the smooth bare skin in the small of her back and I’m resting my erection against her. I quickly guide her into her seat. Being this close observing the way she holds herself; I find her confidence arousing and Ava can sense it too. I watch her beautiful green eyes loosely fall to my crotch and gradually crawl their way back up to mine. I swiftly take the empty chair across from her. Wishing I would just fuckin die. A flattering grin is a show of her appreciation for the compliment hiding behind my zipper.

  Non
etheless I resort to the safety of small talk in hopes of putting the embarrassing situation behind me;

  “I have to admit when you sent me the address, I was a bit surprised it was to a restaurant.”

  “Well if you were a no show I was here and prepared to eat my way down the dessert menu. It's better than sitting at home swimming in my own pity when you didn’t show, don’t you think?” Brilliant and stunning and I couldn’t have been more correct, she’s everything I could have possibly wanted.

  “Point taken, but something tells me getting stood up isn't something that happens to you often.”

  Folding her arms on top of the table she leans in and says;

  “Please, explain.”

  “I’m sure I can’t say anything you haven't heard before.”

  “Try me.”

  “Okay here it goes. Your beauty sucks the air from the fucking room. You're breathtaking as well as intelligent and modest and it makes me feel as if I’ve lost my mind.

  Like you’re just a figment of my imagination because there's no one this perfect.”

  Ava clears her throat and takes a sip of her water.

  And all I can think is; Oh no have I said to much. Have I become like all the other men who flood her with compliments in some slither of desperate hope that if I’m lucky I will at least land comfortably into the friend zone?

  God damn it Ava, say something, anything other than just sitting there twirling your finger over the brim of the glass, at least look at me.

  “All just from our brief meet earlier today?

  “What can I say it was hard not to notice.”

  “Well then it shouldn’t be any surprise to you that yes I have heard those before. But never paired together and spoken so beautifully. But even roses have flaws and I’m far from a rose.”