A Slave to the Fantasy
A Slave to The Fantasy
Rebecca Lee
Chapter 1--Shower, Power, Release
When Samuel got the call, it was very soon after she'd gone. Even closer to the ultimate shock to his will.
When Tanya left she thought only of satisfaction from the only man who could provide it.
What else did she know? What was her plan for the American she left behind? She didn't make the plans. She only carried them out.
She tangled with remorse but only a little because the draw of her longtime lover dominated her mind because his way of pleasure dominated her soul.
He suddenly felt deep sadness and great hurt. Then instantly it became hate, then back again. His sense of duty to his secret life had been wholly abandoned chasing what amounted to an impossible dream. Peeling back the ego kept him from feeling stupid. To want to love someone so much that you'd do anything for the mere chance it to make it happen made him human.
Human's use bad judgment in the ways of the heart. When the truth reveals itself in the behavior of our beloved, it is often debilitating.
He suddenly felt cold. He sensed something. Grave danger. It was all in this video. The whole puzzle. He knew it.
The girl he’d fantasized about for nearly 4 years of his already middle-aged adult life was there. It seemed like moments. Probably because by most measures used by normal everyday people, it was.
An hour perhaps? A little under or a little over. Fantastic. That's how he felt about the whole experience.
The power of again having that deep want fulfilled. It was more potent than ever. Even more than the first time. At this moment, all that he knew about wanting and a particular woman, the dangers of living life that way. It beat him strongly over the head. He knew better.
The feeling of discipline that he’d grown to embrace, even love, had disappeared. In it’s place, a return to the same old weaknesses that seemed to own him from puberty well into his 30s.
What now? What next? All the emotional resources of one Samuel Roberts, age 39, American in the Philippines, were spent.
His years of hopes dashed in the time it took to receive and open a video file sent to his phone.
There she was. Her splendid brown skin glistening with her own sweat and that of her small actually scary looking lighter-skinned Filipino lover. The face was unmistakable. The pleasure/pain being inflicted by this new man on her well proportioned frame. The frame that was honed not by exercise, but slight weight gain, and the process of nursing her secret child.
When Roberts saw the video, his knees nearly gave out. The same clothes she wore during their very recent lovemaking were tucked neatly on top of a hotel chair in the foreground. “My god!” he thought “She was banging this guy less than an hour after we we're together tonight.”
There was no doubt. Same knee length jean skirt, tan bra and red frilly panties with that t-back design he loved licking and tickling during foreplay..
On the video, they were rabid and fast paced. You could see on the transferred file how much more reckless and free she seemed then when Roberts and her had sex multiple times throughout a long night in his high rise suite.
Whether or not she knew the video was being made, wasn’t of consequence. What was of consequence to Roberts is you could clearly tell she couldn’t have cared either way. Her pleasure was so ignited by this string bean of a little man. Odd teeth when he smiled, almost chilling because they looked metallic and fake.
He was doingTanya so hard it looked as though he was going to catapult over her, head-first into the camera (presuming it was mounted in the open and not hidden).
What crushed Roberts wasn’t just seeing this. What crushed him soon after the shock wore off, is how much more passionate she seemed then in their encounters. Her recent declaration of her love and devotion, felt more like taunt destroying him from within.
She cried loudly in Tagalog, her native language. This physical bond and shared experience with this man in the video was clearly more than they had, and likely would ever have.
This was the dangerous nature of total devotion bordering on what most would have termed an obsession. Is feeling into deep love, longing to be with someone and make their life better, unhealthy?
This question haunted his learned mind from his first rejection and betrayal as a late teen-ager, to the present.
How could it ever be wrong when it was plainly right for so many he saw in everyday life? They were seemingly so loyally devoted and happy together?
All those doubts were back amid the deep deep shock and hurt.
This was his first trip to Manila to see her. She was just a jobless peasant girl from the outskirts of the city. In America they are called suburbs. Here they were nowhere near as nice or new looking. Slums is how many would term them.
It took him nearly 4 years and constant cajoling using email, sms messages, and whatever to get her to even agree to a meeting. The connection became so tenuous, that Roberts got to the point where he was feigning interest. Lying and claiming he was there for other purposes and reasons.
During that time she’d gotten pregnant by some Filipino who left her soon after she broke the news to him.
She was only 19 when Roberts met her on an international dating site. He was immediately taken. Now that history no longer mattered except for how stupid it all made him feel. The interest and devotion he'd given out willingly made him feel like a sucker.
It was obvious. He knew he had ignored all the signs he had learned not to ignore from a woman.
The nature of the relationship changed over those 4 years, but the fundamental need to be with her in some way remained solid.
It wasn’t the thrill of the chase because the first time they slept together, he knew he wanted more and more. That night when they were together, she gave as good as she got.
Immediately she began tonguing him down there base to shaft and laughing that seductive laugh. She was no novice. She was enthusiastic and unbelievably tempting. She exceeded his expectations in every way. No easy feat because his mind had made them impossibly high. Her body more tight but feminine, her breasts larger and fuller, her love hole tighter and more perfectly manicured on the fringes than even his fantasies could have imagined.
He was slave to the fantasy, but the reality was even more seductive. She was as intelligent as she was vivacious. She was vulnerable as she was confident. The confidence was readily apparent in everything she did to satisfy him. 7 out of 9 nights they spent together exploring their passions.
He was addicted to her taste. The way she giggled happily and naughtily when he pinned her to the wall during one session and ate her throbbing cookie while she ran her sweet syrup all over his rabid loving tongue. Even more addicted than when he fantasized about her for literally years since they first met online.
He never felt more empowered than when she’d give herself to him. He never felt more fulfilled, focused, and free in the moment. Their last time ended in the shower. Him eating her from behind and aggressively taking her the same way. Their skin was pruned they spent so much time in there together.
God she was breathtaking. Her dark black hair scattered messily soaking wet over her shoulders and in her eyes. She begged him and taunted him to pound her with his massive girth.
“Be a man,” she cried again and again.
He was sure he’d be the only man who could satisfy her ever again in that way. The ghost of the father of her young son had vanished amid the torrid almost otherworldly sessions and the final climax. His meat felt like it was about to come undone he was so full of cum. She said she loved him. It was only them now. At least in his mind.
The phone rang at his hotel. The Manila Police on their way
up. He was warned. From the inside. A body with a blunt scrap car part was found covered in blood and Robert’s passport was there too.
The murder of the man voraciously sexxing his great love in the video. At least that is what he was told. Roberts knew not to trust anyone. His dark feelings of pending troubles were coming to life.
His first move. Pour himself a cold San Miguel from the refrigerator in his suite. And hide his passport. Passport? What nonsense, but he would play the game because the other side of Samuel Roberts. The other side of Samuel Roberts was the ultimate gamesman.
Could it have been? It was him. He blacked out and he was enraged. If that was what happened His life had come undone. He’d lost time.
Roberts honestly didn’t know. But this was his movie. In his mind, that's all it was.
It was all happening too fast to do anything but enjoy the sweet brown cold nectar.
…
Tanya wondered the dank alleys outside the hotel wishing everything was different. Her body chilled from her scant dress and her deep emotional pain of being loved for moments. Loved nowhere but the night.
Her powerful devotion to this sexy gorgeous man who fathered her baby would never be requited. She knew that every time they parted. But she gambled
She felt herself being followed. She ducked behind a mountain of garbage piled to twice her height. She wanted to see if she could spot her follower. The musty air held an eery quiet. Her phone buzzed and startled her like a gun shot. The caller was readily identifiable. He was the diabolical cunning person who gave her everything but took away more. Her benefactor.
Her father.
She picked up the phone and listened. Her heart began to beat ferociously
The stakes were going higher. The danger more imminent. She was trapped. Even as she clung to safety of the solitude behind that swell of grotesque garbage, she knew nothing of safety or freedom.
She only knew servitude. Life as the center of the fantasy.
Chapter 2-- Shame
Forever in his mind. Stuck in the wounds of the past. Running from them. Laughing at them. Justifying them. Smothering them. Living hard and fast to avoid the thought of them. This was his life.
Samuel Roberts gave himself up with no denials or sense of fear. It wasn't an act. He knew things they didn't. He knew he wwasn't capable of such violence. He wouldn't know the man if he saw him standing next to him.
Like any man who wanted the love of a woman who wouldn't give it back to him he was jealous.
All those years ago, the deep embarrassment about being a man, he still thought of those vulnerable vulnerable times as a child. Haunting him. So real in his memory they were happening right now for him.
What was worse than reliving it: reliving talking about it to a woman he desired.
“Sammy's got a girlfriend!” “Sammy's got a girlfriend!” “Sammy's got a girlfriend!”
The deep fear only a child can know, always flows directly to the adult power structure there at the moment of the most helpless embarrassment. Too often that power structure fails to act.
The total breakdown of empathy is what Samuel Roberts experienced on that playground decades ago.
“I felt nothing but shame for liking a girl and her liking me back,” Roberts explained to Jennifer.
Jennifer was hired to examine him and come to the source of his soul, but only if that source helped. She was older, married, and judging by the ring on her finger (and like many beautiful women in Robert's past), up-front about her devotion to another man.
“I didn't ask you if you were married,” Roberts flatly and abruptly stated. Jennifer, in an attempt to create some sort of trust and rapport, injected her husband and only child into the conversation.
“Why do you do that? No I mean why did you do that? Why did pretty women always do that with me?” Roberts asked in a sorrowful but accusatory tone.
The fact is he never knew the answer. Even though it was simply always one of two things, he never fully grasped it.
“Mr. Roberts can you explain to me what you mean?” Jennifer asked in a blatantly falsely ignorant way, but in a way that suited her purpose: to provide a psychological examination as a paid consultant.
“Attractive women. When I meet them and have met them, for as far back as I can remember they never seemed to be single. They never could just go with the flow with me. Like they could always with other guys.” Roberts whined in a shrill desperate tone. “Why I never understood, but I felt lonelier and lonelier the more I met and talked to women. I became more single, the more single I was.”
Jennifer busily turned pages in her notebook between two tabs, and scribbled furiously.
“I see, but I am confused Mr. Roberts,” she stated curiously. “You were talking about your first grade experience at recess where the kids teased you about a girl who liked you. Then you scattered to me and my husband and me mentioning him.”
Roberts leaped up off the soft recliner chair across from his red-headed and lovely interviewer.
“This!”
He stopped short of saying anything, then regathered himself and began to stammer. Every word was ladened with deep venomous dislike for women, attracting a woman and the “game” as it is commonly known. It was clear to Jennifer having counseled over 150 men with sexual dysfunction stemming from closeness issues, this was no unique case.
No matter how loud, obnoxious, inflammatory, threatening, or aggressive he became, the signs were unmistakable.
“Women are never held to being intelligent when it comes to this bullshit,” Roberts yelled (loud enough to create an echo in the concrete shell of what was essentially a garage converted to an office). “Never. Look at you. You have an advanced degree for chrissakes! Yet you can only come up with crap along the lines of “I don't understand” or “I am confused”.
He stood straight up a mere feet in front of her, yet she did not fear for her safety. She smartly crossed her leg the opposite of what it had been before to add shapeliness to her calf muscle.
If she felt fear, she didn't show it. This was the nature of the job. This had to be mastered. The confrontation with the frustrated and sometimes seemingly violent male.
After all, they were all frustrated and this level of frustration was at it's heart, a product of lack of physical intimacy with the opposite sex.
She often contemplated the nature of male and female romantic relationships. Things like why they even existed, and most especially the power they held over otherwise conservative people. Basically, save some variation, they were all sort of the same. This is what she learned scholastically in her Master's and Doctoral level pursuits, and this is what she learned on a deeper level when she actually began practicing in the consulting and counseling arena.
All that we knew as love in the romantic and sexual sense, was mostly sexual and stemmed from a man's deep desire for physical intimacy with a woman. She knew that it was all more primal than we cared to believe in a society that valued seeing it on a deeper level.
If it were set to music, the reality of why we choose love with a woman as men, is much closer to a gangster rap video than any thoughtful romantic poem from a bygone era.
No, those poems were merely an attempt to add beauty and reason to the deep carnal desires seeking satisfaction. That power engendered inside a man when he was able to control and gain physical favor from a woman he found attractive. She knew this, and therefore she knew Samuel Roberts as nothing unique and definitely not suffering from mental illness.
He craved physical intimacy and had issues with being able to achieve it. She contemplated further that evening as she penned her report. This was where it got trickier from the counselor's perspective when assessing a man with seeming issues creating adult relationships with women.