Enigma Pt. 01

Enigma

By JustJake051

Chapter One

"That's very clever," he thought to himself. "A sculpture displayed here in the salon. And it's amazing!" John Titan had walked into the salon area of the art museum and stopped instantly when he saw it. It was a statue of a woman, a beautiful blonde, seated at a small cocktail table, with a single martini glass sitting on the table. There, on the tabletop, was a Reserved tent sign. But the work was amazing, the woman so beautiful, he thought as he walked closer. The beauty stared distantly, piercingly, out into space. The workmanship and craft of the statue was incredible. It was plaster, perhaps, some plastic or maybe a mannequin, but he couldn't be sure.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Large breasts, long beautiful legs, short, blonde hair, perfectly styled and falling softly in front, almost like a veil that covered part of her beautiful face. Her makeup was flawless, beauty personified. It was a true work of art, he thought. Sitting at the small round table, her long tanned legs were exquisite, wearing a dark, tailored suit. Then she blinked and her head turned slowly toward him, her piercing blue eyes locked on him. It wasn't a statue or object of art. She was real! And she was staring at him. His heart racing, he suddenly knew how a rabbit felt the moment before the talons of the nearing raptor tore into it.

It was a charity event for the art museum. He and his ex-wife, Patricia, had been members of the museum, and he still received invitations to events. He didn't know why, but something told him to go that evening, attend this event. Yes, he was lonesome, but he wasn't interested in finding someone. No, no Internet dating for him. Patricia had hurt and damaged him far too deeply. Broke him, as a man. He didn't really care about any of it anymore. He was done. He was still hurting from the betrayal and the divorce. After seven years of marriage to a wonderful woman, he discovered that for the last four years, she had been cheating on him with numerous men. Some detective, he often thought to himself. With a Big Ten college degree, he could have been a lawyer, a doctor, anything. But no, he had to be a cop. He settled in the Windy City and had twenty years on the police force, a Detective Lieutenant, no less, and he couldn't even see that his own wife was a slut and using him for a fool. "Some detective," he thought.

Amicable was the word used at cocktail parties when people would describe their parting. But she ripped his heart out and destroyed what he thought was the one true love in his life, the perfect marriage. Now, the former police detective in his mid-forties, played at his investments from his forced retirement money, dabbled in the stock market with his police pension fund, agonized over his failed marriage and played chess as a hobby and a passion. Two bullets, one in his side and one in his shoulder, fired during a botched drug arrest, ended his career. Too damaged, HR had told him.

So, John Titan had to work hard at being idle, as playwright Oscar Wilde said. He was a big man, standing six feet two inches tall and had been a wrestler in college, winning a conference title and falling one point short in the national championship match. His temper and physical predilection sometimes got him in trouble as a cop, with complaints about excessive physical force. But he was cleared and was one of the most respected cops in Chicago. Now, he filled the late-night hours online, playing chess against people, computers, anyone who would play him. His username was 'Paladin', and he was good. Better than most. And he loved the game, lost himself in it, all those long nights when he couldn't sleep. Love the tactics, the strategy, setting the traps, detecting the gambits and trying to anticipate his opponent. And he enjoyed it most when it was a person, rather than a computer. Trying to figure out their next move, their next five moves, their weaknesses, that was his haven, his shelter. It was the perfect game for a retired cop. And he had several good online opponents, the best called himself 'Hell', as his username. He was good. And John enjoyed the rivalry, winning some, losing some. But it was always a brilliant tactical battle.

That night at the museum, people milled about and chatted, as he wandered through the museum and into the salon, where drinks were being served, and tables were set up. And there she was. She was solemn, sad, beautiful and alone sitting at a table with only the one chair, the Reserved sign resting on the table. A single crystal martini glass on the table in front of her, almost empty. Not the sculpture he first believed, but she was real, and he was now standing next to her.

"I'm sorry... I thought..." he stammered. "Sorry," and then he walked away. He exited the salon and wandered the galleries for several minutes, but his mind was elsewhere. It was back in the salon. She was the most exquisite woman he had ever seen, but there was something else and he knew he just couldn't walk away. He walked back into the salon, and she was still there. The martini glass in front of her had been refilled, but that was the only change as she sat unmoving, staring out into the distance.

"May I?" he asked.

She turned slowly and looked at him again. She stared at him for what seemed like an hour but was only seconds. And then she nodded, slightly. He quickly asked one of the wait staff for a chair and turned back to her. She was so beautiful, he almost couldn't believe she was real. His hand trembled slightly as he extended it toward her.

"I'm John.," he said, offering his hand. She didn't shake. He noticed there was no wedding ring.

A chair was brought over, and he sat. It was the most awkward he had ever been in his life, and he had seen it all. Murder, violence, torture, dismemberment, he had seen it, lived it. But now, that felt like nothing compared to the unease that she made him feel. She sat in silence, staring at him.

"Well? I'm John and you are?" he said, leaning slightly forward. Then it hit him. Her perfume. Dark, exotic, sexual, almost primal. He didn't know what it was, but it was certainly nothing that he had ever smelled before. Another long pause, as she continued to stare at him, sizing him up, perhaps. But making his discomfort unbearable.

"Helene. I'm Helene."

He ordered two fresh martinis, and they drank and chatted briefly, politely, for the remainder of the evening, about art and the museum. Nothing about her came up. She offered nothing in conversation about who she was. She was an absolute enigma. A mystery woman of such beauty he couldn't even comprehend it. Hurt? Damaged? There was clearly something behind her deep, blue eyes. Pain? Suffering? Anger? What, he wasn't sure, but something compelled him, pushed him toward her. He couldn't even tell how old she was. She could have been in her twenties or her fifties. He was totally at a loss.

He noticed one top button of her white silk blouse was unbuttoned, revealing a tiny glimpse of fine, white lace, covering her large breasts that curved softly upward. Her tight blue suit, with the short, fitted skirt, only made it that much more appealing. Conservative, businesslike, but, oh so sexy, he thought.

"I know you might think I'm way out of line here, but I'm wondering if we could have dinner, sometime? Together. Tomorrow? Whenever."

More silence and the hardened stare.

Chapter Two

The evening came, four days after the art gallery event, and John Titan arrived at the address she had given him. The house was huge, expensive, and incredible. She met him at the door before he could even knock. She didn't invite him in but walked directly to his car.

She was smart, educated, with a refined elegance, pure class, he knew that. She was wearing a white, double-breasted, midi-dress with formal satin lapels. She looked exquisite. A diamond choker was around her long slender neck, and John didn't want to even try and guess what that cost, but it was real. He moved quickly and opened the car door for her. Her dress was buttoned down to just below her hips, and when she got into the car, the bottom of the dress fell open and revealed her long slender legs, the white stockings with lace tops showing, and she made no attempt to cover them up. She could have stepped right out of a fashion magazine, he thought. She was the epitome of both class and sensuality. And John knew he was certainly out of his depth with her. He was a cop, an ex-cop, rather. Sometimes a politician, sometimes a thug. But he had been a damned good detective, until his wife shattered him, and he got careless on the job. But this woman, this woman was most definitely a class above.

Their dinner was incredible, but quiet. Helene spoke very little, leaving John to try and carry the conversation, which he wasn't very good at. He ordered a 2017 Twomey Pinot Noir, which went well with dinner, but the entire evening, John's eyes stayed glued on Helene. They chatted about art, the museum event and sipped coffee after dinner. She took a small sip of coffee, her dark red lipstick now marking the white China cup. Then, she looked at him.

"John, I have a troubling past. You should know that," Helene said out of the blue, and fell silent again.

"I think people without a troubling past are few and very lucky," John said. "And I wasn't that lucky. But I lived through it. And now, I've met you. So, maybe a little luck is still out there for me."

A faint smile crossed her lips.

"John, what do you want with me?"

He looked at her for a moment, puzzled by the question. "I think... I think I want to see you laugh. Let's just start with that," he said, and another small smile crossed her lips.

They went back to the house. He thought the night had come to a delightful end and he was slightly shocked when she invited him in for drinks. The house was spectacular, right out of Interior Design magazine. Rich Mediterranean furniture filled the house. Everything was perfect and yet cold, sterile and didn't quite feel lived in.

"Before you ask, yes, I live alone," Helene said. "The bar's over there, if you want to make us something."

"Helene, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, ever seen," he said, gently shaking the Vesper martinis he was making. "And when I showed up tonight, I wasn't even sure you'd be here. Honestly, I wasn't even sure that you were real. I thought my mind was just fucking with me again."

She stood in the middle of the room and stared at him, that cold, piercing stare that she had when he first saw her. Slowly, she reached up and started unbuttoning the three large, white cloth covered buttons that kept the double-breasted dress closed. Slowly, she pulled the dress open and it slipped off her shoulders. She was naked underneath. Just the white stockings and heels. "My God," he muttered aloud. "Magnificent! Breathtaking!" he thought.

Perfection. She truly was a work of art. Her long legs, slender body and large breasts were amazing. She was something a computer geek might have come up with in a faked picture of a beautiful woman. No, not just beautiful, he thought. She was incredible, too amazing to be real. Then she turned and said, "Bring the martinis," as she walked away, heading down a large hallway. As she walked in front of him, he saw it. A tattoo of the number 151 on her shapely asscheek.

She didn't say a word or make a sound during their lovemaking. Nothing. No sound when he first slid his rigid cock deep into her silky, smoothness. He had never felt anything like it. She was smooth, tight and her cunt swallowed him, consumed him as he entered her. He groaned aloud as he slid deep inside her. But from Helene, there was no sound. Not a moan of pleasure, not an "Oh God" with her first orgasm, as John pressed his mouth tightly to her soft vaginal lips and kissed and licked the sweet opening between her legs. Her soft, hairless cunt was exquisite, glorious. He felt her orgasm, felt her body shudder under his touch as he performed oral sex on her, savoring her sweetness. She was unlike any woman he had ever known.

She was incredible. As they fucked, she moved like nothing even imaginable from a woman. She pushed, pressed him to peaks, and then pulled, easing him softly back and then up again. It went on for hours. Hours of pleasurable torment and ecstasy, before she began to accelerate, undulating, moving her hips, grinding him, pulling him up to the top of the mountain. Then, later, toward the end, there was a moment when she clutched him tightly, crushing her body hard against him and she held on, clinging tightly as he came deep inside her. Then she eased and their bodies fell apart in bed. She was amazing, the most incredible fuck in all the world, John thought to himself, now totally blown away by this mystery of a woman who had just captured his soul.

Lying in bed, she began to speak, slowly, softly. "I've just made a terrible mistake. I should never have done this. We should never have done this," Helene said, almost more to herself than to him. A single tear swelled in the corner of her eye and then rolled down the side of her face as she stared up at the ceiling.

Silence.

"I see you pierced your nipples," he said, trying to change the mood, and kissed her lightly on one of her magnificent breasts, her large hard nipples erect and jutting out, the large piercing holes evident and obvious.

"No, I didn't. Someone else pierced them. Would you prefer it if I put my rings in?" she said softly.

Silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he said

"No. But clearly you want me to."

"I guess I do. Only if you're okay with it," John said slowly.

Lying next to him in bed, Helene began to unravel the story of her life.

"I was just out of college, three degrees including a Doctorate, broke and in massive debt, no job, no market for an art history major. No future," she said, still staring up at the bedroom ceiling.

"A woman approached me, said she was a headhunter, asked if I would be interested in a possible three-year position. If I passed the intro sessions, there would be several medical procedures, of a sort, that went along with it. I agreed and soon met the others. There were twelve of us at first."

Helene paused, as if caught in a nightmare and unable to escape, still staring at the ceiling. There was a long exhale, and she continued.

"I was one of a dozen other young women, all quite beautiful, all in need of money. We stayed at a luxury resort, and they took incredible care of us. There were weeks of extensive psych and medical tests." She turned her head and looked at John.

"It was unreal. Every day, drops of special, exotic oils were rubbed on my breasts. They fed us food designed to make us sexy, excited, the perfect woman, or so I thought. And the injections. There were ancient recipes, formulas, ground plants, herbs, animal parts, they said. I don't know how else to explain it. My vagina and my ass were constantly probed, measured and stretched. Capsules made of lamb intestine and filled with special mixtures, herbs and oils, were inserted into me, both openings. Daily."

"After a while, three of the girls' breasts didn't respond and didn't get larger. They were eliminated. But mine did. I went from a small C to a triple D cup in 3 months. But I was never harmed or hurt. Well, only once." And she went silent for several moments.

"We were pampered. Skin treatments. Massage therapy. Beauty treatments. Everything. It was like an advanced degree in beauty. All I had to do was be beautiful. Then one day, my breasts started leaking. I was lactating. The next day, during a massage, I felt a sharp sting in my neck, the warming and then I went black. I woke up in a metal box. I was naked, gagged, tightly wrapped in something like bubble-wrap. And I was obviously moving. I could feel the vibration of the plane. I was being shipped somewhere."

Helene paused, with obvious difficulty in retelling the event.

"When we arrived, they unpacked us and one of the girls started yelling. Why didn't they just fly us here, sitting in the plane, she said? Why this? I said they wanted us to know we are property. Objects, I told her. There was an enormous man standing next to me. 'Very good, number 151. I will remember you,' he said. And I never saw that girl again. If it had been in the Middle East, you would call it a harem. It wasn't. But we were there to serve. We did whatever we were told to do. Several days later, the previous group of women were preparing to leave. One of them was angry, rude. She didn't want to leave. She refused. She was beheaded in front of our eyes."

Helene leaned over, lifted her martini glass from the nearby nightstand, took a small sip and replaced the glass on the table.

"For the next three years, I served a very wealthy and powerful man. Sex, drugs, whatever they told me to do, I did. John, I've been fucked by lots of men. Unimaginable things, huge cocks, fucked by countless men at a time, large groups. I've fucked women. Everything you can think of, and some you can't, I've done. If it had a dick and a pulse, I probably fucked it. And I was milked. My breasts were pumped and the milk collected daily. He drank it. He was obsessed with it. Said it was better if I orgasmed while giving the milk. So, I was fucked and they forced orgasms regularly as they pumped my milk."

Helene fell silent. She sat up on the edge of the bed.

"I was trained to be the perfect, sexual creature."

"Well, they certainly..." and then John stopped, realizing that whatever he said would be wrong.

Helene got out of bed and walked across the room over to the tray of martinis. As she stepped away from the bed, John noticed the mark on her exquisite buttocks. It was small, but clear, deliberate. A tattoo? No. He realized it was a brand on her skin. John could see the number 151 branded deep onto her body, her right asscheek. It was the only blemish, the only mark on her otherwise perfect body.

She took another swallow of her martini. "You can leave any time you want."

He didn't move.

"You'll have to tell me to leave. And you'll find that I can be pretty stubborn. I'm going to stick around for that laugh I'm after," John said.

She walked back and sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, John," she sighed. "After the three years were up, I was sent home. That was almost ten years ago. They continue to pay me very well, as you can see. And they will for the rest of my life. But there are certain things I have to do. Unpleasant, abnormal. I am bound by a contractual agreement. Every lawyer I've shown it to says it's airtight. Perfect. Unbreakable. And it also says every three years I must recommend a prospective young woman for them. It doesn't matter if she doesn't make it. She just has to agree to meet and to enter the process. If she goes and makes it, I receive additional millions."

"You mean you've sent... I mean, sent women...?" John asked, still trying to wrap his mind around what Helene had been telling him.

"Yes. I have and I will again. John, I was owned. Property. Still am, in some respects."

Chapter Three

Three days had passed since that night. That night of incredible sex and the unimaginable revelations about Helene's past. And three long days of silence from her. Then, that evening, his cell phone rang.

"Please come over," was all she said, and the phone went dead.

He drove over and she met him at the door. "Sit down, John. Over there," she said pointing to a chair against the wall. "Don't say or do anything."

As he walked over to the chair, John noticed that there was an older man and two younger men there, sitting in the spacious living room. They didn't even acknowledge that he was in the room. They only stared at Helene. John hardly recognized her. She was heavily made up, extreme dark gray eyeshadow, a slutty look so different from her classical beauty. She had large gold hoop rings in her nipples and wore long dangling gold earrings. She was naked, except for the sheer black gown that she wore, that clung tightly to her large breasts and hips. The see-through gown was tied tightly at her waist by a black satin sash. The sheer fabric shimmered as she turned and walked back across the room to the other men, leaving John alone in silence. The long, puffy sleeves flowed as she stopped and turned in front of the three seated men.

"Bend over, spread open your ass for us," the older man said.

The older man was clearly in control. He began to order her around and she obeyed, without hesitation. John could hear the accent but couldn't quite place it. Serbian? Russian? Eastern European no doubt.

"Finger your cunt for them. You see, Yuri? She will do whatever she is told," the older man said to one of the younger men. "She will be just what you both need. Even for that big horse cock of yours, Yuri."

"Da, Nikola, she is perfect," one of the younger men replied, staring at the gorgeous blonde standing in front of them.

All three of the men stood and removed their clothes. Lots of tattoos, dark, graphic ink, John noticed. The three all were well hung, unusually so. But the two young men had enormous cocks. One of them, Nikola, had a cock so large even John couldn't believe it was real. Well over a foot long and massive in width, it was truly abnormal. John knew there was no way possible for Helene, with the snug and tight cunt she had shared with him three nights ago, to get that monster insider her.

Helene slowly untied the satin sash, and the black gown fell away, leaving her naked. The high stiletto heels lifted her firm ass and the large gold hoops dangled gently from her enormous breasts.

"Down on your knees. Now suck them," Nikola ordered.

She went instantly onto her knees as the men stepped toward her. The head of one young man's cock was so large she struggled and could hardly fit it in her mouth.

"Suck harder," Nikola said. Helene responded, wrapping her lips around the young man's now rigid and growing cock. It was enormous and she slid her mouth up and down the young man's stiff member with a silky ease, as if she had done it a thousand times.

"Oh yeah, that's it. Suck it," Yuri groaned

For the next fifteen minutes, John Titan sat quietly in the chair, watching Helene suck on the three massive cocks. If she had sucked them one minute more, perhaps all three would have ejaculated, and ended the night, John hoped. But she stopped. She stood and walked over to the large white, silk-covered sofa and sat. She lifted her legs backward and held herself at the knees, spreading herself wide open for them. Her soft cunt lips fell apart, as if by command, an offering to the three men. She said nothing but now offered them everything.

The second young man named Miloje stepped quickly over between her widespread legs, grabbed his massive cock with one hand and guided it roughly into her open cunt.

"AAAAHHHH," he groaned, as he pushed deep into Helene's open vagina. And still not a word, no sound came from the blonde beauty.

"Look at me when I fuck you," Miloje said, and her soft blue eyes lifted and stared at the young man. The look in her eyes was allure, lust, pure seduction. But still, not a sound. Seeing the look in her eyes, the young man began to pump wildly, desperately. Suddenly, he grabbed her and pulled her up and turned her over, her ass now upwards and she was on her knees. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back and slammed his cock back into her and began to pound savagely away again. He wrapped his other hand around her throat from behind and clamped down hard as he slammed into her, snapping her head back with each brutal thrust. John wanted to jump up, to stop it, but he knew if he did, Helene would be done with him. She was having him watch this for a reason.

"Get on, bitch. Get on my cock. Now," said the other young man, Yuri, as he slid down on the sofa next to her.

She crawled on top of his monstrous thick cock and positioned the massive head against her dripping cunt lips. John couldn't tell if she pushed or the man thrust up, but instantly the giant slab of rigid meat slid deep, sinking all the way in. Helene now sat upon the young man, his entire cock now totally consumed, buried deep in her womb.

"Oh God! Wonderful. She is so tight. She has taken my cock from me!" Yuri exclaimed.

Wildly, the young man began pounding as hard and as fast as he could into Helene's cunt.

"YES! Yes! Fuck me, bitch. Fuck my big cock!" he screamed and continued to savagely pound away at the blonde beauty sitting on top of him, her massive breasts bouncing wildly up and down with each thrust. But still, not a sound came out of her.

Without missing a beat, Yuri then reached behind Helene and slipped two fingers into her asshole. Roughly, he clamped down with his hand, his two fingers still inside her ass, and dug deep into the soft flesh of her round asscheeks. And the pounding continued, madly, wildly as he drove his enormous cock deep inside her with each thrust.

"Miloje, get in there. In her ass," the old man yelled.

"We're gonna take that one. That hole. Open that ass. Open that fucking ass," Nikola ordered.

"Give me your ass," Miloje yelled and then drove his cock deep into Helene's puckered rectum. Still not a sound came from Helene.

"Tighten your ass on him," Nikola yelled.

"That's right. I'm in there. She does both cocks," Miloje screamed.

Both of the young men began pumping away, one in and one out, as they sawed at Helene's open holes. The old man, Nikola, now stood and moved over them, hovering, and stroked his enormous cock, watching as the two men ravaged Helene. After a moment, John watched the older man move around the sofa and push his thick cock into Helene's mouth. She instantly swallowed his cock as deep as she could, with no resistance, no hesitation, as if she knew it was coming. John wanted to do something. Start punching the men, get up and leave or even just close his eyes, but he knew he couldn't. Not if he wanted to be with Helene. So, he sat quietly and watched.

Helene soon had the older man's thick cock raging, ready to explode. He quickly shuffled around and pulled Miloje off of Helene, the young man's cock savagely yanked from her now stretched ass hole.

"Off!" Nikola yelled. "You too," and he pulled Helene up and off of the enormous cock that was stuffed in her cunt. Yuri scrambled out of the way as Nikola turned Helene's ass toward him and slammed his stiff cock into her gaped rectum.

"AAAHHH!" Nikola grunted and began to pound hard and deep into her ass. After several minutes of vicious pounding into her ass, John watched as Helene reached around with her long slender arm and wrapped her hand around his cock as it slid in and out of her ass. With two fingers now wrapped tightly around the base of his large swollen penis, Helene began to work his cock with her hand, slowly, and she began to jerk him off, masturbating his slippery cock while he thrust deep in and out of her ass. It was only then that she looked back over at John, sitting silently against the wall. That look, that stare, her blue eyes locked on him went straight to his heart. He didn't know if it was love, or lust, but he knew she had his heart, his soul, it was hers for the taking.

For two hours, the three men fucked Helene in every imaginable way. One would hold her legs back as he stood over her. Helene slowly licked his cock and balls as another man fucked her in the ass and cunt, moving rapidly between the two now gaping, stretched holes. Minutes later, Yuri had her bent over, his enormous cock thrusting wildly into her ass. John saw her mouth open wide, a pant. He expected a wail of pleasure, a moan of lust. But no, no sound came out.

The three men never acknowledged or even noted that John was there. And she was absolutely silent during the entire time. No sounds of pleasure. No seductive words affirming what great lovers the men were. There were no expressions of emotion, pleasure, or passion on her face. No feigned groans of lust or encouragement for the three. As John watched, the scene was surreal, hypnotic. But he couldn't take his eyes off her. Every move she made was sensuous, erotic, hellishly tempting, but tortured.

Finally, the three men were spent, after filling her body with floods of semen before withdrawing and leaving Helene lying naked on the floor. John Titan was stunned. It was the strangest, most erotic fuck he could ever have imagined. While the coldest, it was the hottest, his mind now totally consumed by the sensuous beauty.

"I'm so sorry. You needed to see that," she said, lying on the floor, covered in sweat and semen. "I brought you here to show you what I'm really like. I no longer have emotions, feelings, like normal people, like normal women." She stood and slowly walked toward him. "But I'm still a woman. And then I look in your eyes and all I see is hurt... and anger. Maybe you're still in love with her, John, whoever she is. Now you need to leave. Goodbye, John, I don't expect to ever see you again." And she leaned in and kissed him softly and then turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Four

In the days that followed, John Titan could no longer function. He couldn't think, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Helene. He was consumed. He tried to phone her, needed to talk to her. There was no answer. No voicemail. He tried to focus elsewhere, to play chess with his old nemesis, Hell, but John couldn't even do that, couldn't think, couldn't concentrate on the game. He stared at the board he used for his online games. The Yugoslavian World Chess Championship Staunton 1959 set was his favorite, but his mind just wasn't in it. He had recognized Hell's strategy for this game they had started several weeks ago, the Sicilian Defense, the Siberian Trap. He wanted to smile, to focus on the chess game, but he couldn't. There was only Helene.

"I need to see you. I need you. Please." he texted her. There was no response.

Then the impossible happened. His cell phone rang, and his heart jumped. But it wasn't the number he was hoping for, waiting for, wanting. It was Patricia, his ex-wife, calling him. The apologies, the regrets, it was all there.

"So, who is she? She's beautiful. I saw a picture on the art gallery website of the two of you at the last exhibit," Patricia said over the phone. "I've been thinking, I made a horrible mistake. Would you be interested in meeting. Drinks maybe, a date? I miss you. I've made such a terrible mistake."

His mind flashed to the long string of men she was secretly fucking while married to him. Flashed to all of the lies. The deceptions. The pain.

"No, I'll pass," he said and hit the disconnect button.

He had said no, but Patricia's call and invitation had really gotten to him. His ex was toying with him, a game to make him hurt, and he knew it. When he first found out about her cheating, she destroyed him. He realized she was bad, bad for him. But this call was evil, mean spirited. The anger that had been previously pushed aside, in large part because of Helene, was now back, raging, swelled up again at Patricia.

Staring at his phone, he pushed the number on the screen. Helene's number. Amazingly, she answered.

"John. I never expected to hear from you again."

"I need to see you. Please. I'm in love with you and I don't know how to deal with this," he said.

There was a long silence on the phone.

"Oh, John." And a long pause. "Okay. Tomorrow. Drinks. The Talbot." And the phone went dead.

The Talbot was a very exclusive and expensive bar in the heart of downtown. He had never been in it. He couldn't have afforded it. Not to mention that he would never have been able to get a reservation or even get in the door. But the next evening, there he sat, waiting. And then she walked in.

The cobalt blue leather dress she wore was made of soft kidskin, that hugged tightly to her body, the low-cut decolletage opening down the front to her waist, her large braless breasts perched delicately at the edge of the deep v of the leather dress.

He stood, wanted to hold her, kiss her, but she quickly sat down at the table, avoiding his contact.

"She called me, John. Your ex, Patricia. Got my number from the museum. I told her to stop. She's playing a very dangerous game. She wanted to know if we were serious. Do you still love her?" Helene asked.

"I only love one woman. And that's you."

"John, don't say that. You don't even know me," Helene said.

"I know. I know. But I know how I feel. And I love you so much, it aches when we're not together."

"That's absurd John. You know what I am, what I have to do," she said. "Are you going to see her?"

"No. She cheated on me, lied, fucked an endless string of men and loved every minute of it, 'til I found out. I'm done."

"Good. Then tell her to fuck off and to stop calling you," Helene said, then stood and quickly walked out of the bar.

But John Titan didn't have any such luck. Patricia continued to call him, leaving messages, continued to want to get together again. John was getting pissed. Two days later, Helene texted him and asked him to come over. He expected that this was to say goodbye or to complain about Patricia calling her.

When he got to Helene's, he was about to press the doorbell, but the door opened and there she stood. She kissed him softly and it was like the evening with the three men had never happened. It was obvious that she had been crying, her eyes were red and swollen. But only he would have seen it. To anyone else, she was flawless, stunning. She led him into the living room, and he was momentarily startled that there was another woman sitting there. The woman was young, beautiful and John instantly thought that perhaps this was a candidate for Helene's obligation to send a prospect to the rich, powerful man in Eastern Europe.

They all chatted for a few minutes and John carried most of the conversation with the young woman. He could see Helene closely watching her, observing, taking everything in.

"John, how about one of your great martinis," Helene said and followed him over to the bar. "I want you to fuck her, John. Make her come like you did me," Helene whispered.

"I'm not interested in her."

"I know that. But do it for me. Please." She leaned in and kissed him softly, the most tender kiss they had ever shared, her perfume filling his nostrils, her soft mouth tugging at his heart. Then Helene turned and moved back over to the young woman and whispered in her ear. The young beauty stood, smiled and walked over to John and kissed him. She took him by the hand and the two of them went down the hall to the bedroom.

She was easily the second most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Helene was the first. She was beautiful, her firm, toned body glowed as she stripped off her dress. Her small, firm breasts were perfect. She smiled as she laid back on the bed. John kissed her soft breasts and then ran his tongue down her taut stomach and past her navel.

"Oh, yeesss," she moaned and spread her legs wider apart as John began to kiss and lick her sweet cunt lips.

"Ooooohhhhh," she moaned, as he flicked his tongue at her swollen clit, making her twist and shake with pleasure. "That's incredible. Don't stop!!" she exhaled.

He didn't stop. Her orgasms exploded over him, one after another. Soon, he was lost in her passion, her wildness. He unleashed all of the pent-up emotions, frustrations, anger inside him. His torment with Helene, his anger with Patricia, all unraveled with the young woman. He fucked like it was the last fuck of his life. The beautiful young woman screamed and squirmed as he touched her, excited her.

"Oh, God, God, God, yesssss!" she screamed as she came again.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck me," she moaned, as John pushed his rigid cock deep into the young beauty. He fucked her roughly, savagely, as she moaned and screamed, with all the lust driven passion and fury that was missing from fucking Helene. Yet, all the while, images of Helene with the three men flashed in his mind.

That evening, John Titan was rough with the young woman, rougher than he had ever been with any woman, more than he could have imagined possible. He was a wild man. Anger at his ex, perhaps, or the frustration of his feelings for Helene, him having to do this show, this charade for her. All his pent-up emotions were now being unleashed.

"Oh, God yes!! Fuck me, John!!" she groaned, as her fourth orgasm twisted her body, and she pulled him deeper inside her, draining everything from him. He could feel her fingers, her nails digging deep into his back as she clung to him, her body shaking.

Helene was nowhere to be seen as John and the young woman came back into the living room. Without a word, the woman kissed him and walked out the door. Standing alone in the enormous house, John Titan had never been more confused in his life. Why did Helene do this? Was this some kind of kinky game for her? A test? Was the young woman being offered to him to replace Helene? He was lost. He shook his head and slowly walked over to the large bar and started mixing a drink. Looking around, he noticed a small room off to the side. Drink in hand, he walked over and peered casually into the room. It was a small game room and library. There in the center of the room was a chessboard.

It was magnificent. A Bucephalus Staunton chess set, hand carved in rich rosewood and white boxwood. The wild fiery mane of the Bucephalus horse, the knight chess piece of the set, was spectacular. Beautiful, he thought, as he stared at the chess set. Then, he looked at the board, the position of the pieces. Something was wrong. Then he stopped and looked again. The position of the chess pieces in the game Helene was playing was... well, it was impossible. It was the game he was playing with Hell, his old online chess adversary. In that moment he realized... Helene was Hell.

"Well, how was she?" he heard Helene say, as she stood in the doorway of the small game room. He hadn't even heard her come in.

"She isn't you," he said.

"No. No one is. And I didn't do that for her. I needed to find out about you."

"Find out? What?"

"What you are willing to do, John? Are you willing to risk everything to be with me? Knowing what you know, what I am, how I am. Knowing what I have to do. And that I can't change that. Are you willing to love me, only me, us, together? Can you live with that? And I needed to find out something about me. I needed to find out if I was jealous."

"Well?" he asked. "Are you?"

"Funny. Turns out I am," she said.

John let out a small laugh. He walked over and handed her the drink he had made at the bar, and he leaned in and kissed her. She reached out and pulled his body tightly against hers. And the kiss continued. And then he smiled and shook his head in amazement, as he looked at her.

"Let's finish our chess game and then I want to fuck you," he said.

"What?" Helene asked, now totally confused by what John was saying.

"Hell... Helene. I get it, now. Our online chess game... I'm Paladin. This is our game. You and I have been playing together for years," he said, pointing to the chessboard. "You could have been anyone from all over the world. I've never believed in fate, not like this, but this goes way beyond luck. And it's your move," John said.

And then it happened. Helene's expression of confusion melted into a glorious, beautiful smile and then an exuberant laugh.

"I've got a better idea. Let's make love. Then we can fuck later," she said.

End of Part One