A DARK STAR STORY
THE COLLECTIVE CHAPTER 12 - ENSNARED
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As she sets down her cutlery I watch her intently.
Her perfect slender form is all but silhouetted against the backdrop of a fiery skyline as the sun sets away to the horizon beyond floor to ceiling windows. Her ice blue eyes set firmly upon me as she looks across the table. I do not avert the intensity of my gaze.
"That was delicious," she sincerely offers.
"I'll pass your compliments to my Chef," I respond whilst setting my napkin upon the surface of the jet black table.
"Oh, so you're not even going to pretend that was your culinary expertise then?" the platinum blonde playfully teases.
"Arabella..." I respond enjoying the subtle flinch my formality always triggers, "...when you're as busy as I am you learn to afford on the support of others services."
"Or as wealthy," Ari Walker-Smith states with a smirk that covers for the bluntness of her remark.
"Maybe," I offer with a grin as I press my seat back and rise from the table.
Stepping along the left hand side of the table I fix her once more with the intensity of my gaze. She must fully appreciate I never brought her here tonight for her company over dinner and to share the perfectly balanced bottle of French red wine that has accompanied the meal of fillet mignon and green vegetables. My intentions on how she will seek to repay the debt of gratitude she owes me were made patently clear several weeks ago. Tonight, the young blonde will finally serve purpose in the fulfilling of my long standing desire.
As I draw close, so close I could reach out and cradle her petite jaw Ari looks up at me. As she does, I fixate beyond the anticipation of what sits beneath the black lace detail dress that clings to her body as I am drawn to, hypnotised by, her strikingly pale blue eyes that are framed by dark shades of makeup that accentuate her overall natural beauty.
"Join me on the terrace for a drink?" I offer as a statement as much as a question.
As she pushes her own chair away before I can offer her any assistance. she simply nods and finishes the last of her glass of red wine. Under other circumstance the contents of such a glass might be laced by the same dissolved blue tablet that has snared and ensured the cooperation of others whilst sat in my company at the same table.
My mind had been set long ago on the conquest of Ari Walker-Smith a promise made to myself alone that there would be no surreptitious coercion. Having patiently waited for this moment I fully intend to appreciate and benefit from the purity of the circumstances. Years ago she had unknowingly been introduced to me as an offering to 'The Collective' by Logan Hughes, since that sordid memorable performance I had harboured the opportunity to get close to, let alone intimate with the beautiful girl who now stands confidently before me.
As she turns to step away from the dining table my hand slips across the small of her back and she steps along side of me as I open the glass door that leads to the terrace that faces out over the city. A warm late summer wind passes across the rooftop as we step across the concrete surface towards the balcony that overlooks the vista. As she reaches for and grips gently the brushed steel bar that runs along the balcony I note her look down briefly towards the ground beneath us before she casts her gaze out towards the horizon as the sun finally creeps below the level of the horizon.
She is unlike any of the others, the main benefit of 'The Collective' being the unfettered access to a precession of beautiful, available girls. The influence often gained by the little blue pills has given exponential rise to the numbers that pass through my own hands and the private members club that sits on the floors quite literally beneath my feet. Over the last eighteen months the high coincidence linking some of those girls to Logan Hughes has in the main been deliberate, and by occasion unintentional. For all manner of reasons.
Some like his niece Katie, and his own former conquests and compatriots have been coincidental. Others have been deliberately targeted and brought to the Warehouse to serve no other purpose than retribution for their closeness to the vile egotistical charade of a man. None more memorable than the intensity and the pleasure gained from the subjugation of his former long term partner Hannah Walker. I had been blissfully unaware of Hannah's family connection to Ari, despite their partially shared surname. A matter that was obvious in hindsight and only served to underline the despicable, deplorable morals of Logan Hughes.
As I stand alongside Ari, I look back to her, taking in her physique. As she stands in full profile strands with of platinum blonde hair catch on the gentle warm breeze. She is a picture of perfection, a prize I have sought for too long. Logan Hughes most alluring beautiful conquest will soon be mine.
"You're aware why I brought you here tonight aren't you?"
Ari simply nods her gaze not breaking from whatever she looks at across the view of the city. If she ruminates on my suggestion and her purpose she hides the matter well.
"I've long waited for this moment since the first time we met..." I continue, "...since he introduced me to you."
"Marco?" Ari offers in reference to her recently deceased fiancΓ©. Marco Mancini being one of several reasons I had held off bringing the young blonde here before now. A decision made out of respect for the man she had been due to marry. Although I had long suspected she had never genuinely mourned his untimely demise, there had been no period of wallowing, not publicly at least and I was convinced there was likely even less private grief. It was noticeable that the bare minimum of respect had been adhered to in order to avoid being seen as hideously callous following his death.
"No..." I respond as I reach out and tuck platinum strands of blonde hair behind her left ear. "...Logan Hughes."
A flicker of emotion crosses her stoic gaze that remains casts into the distance.
I fully appreciate I have not offer Ari the aforementioned drink I promised, not least as I see no further reason to delay the inevitable.
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By the flickering candlelight that illuminates the room I lead her through the vast expanse of the master bedroom.
She follows obediently in my wake, just as she had through the corridors and single flight of stairs we had traversed from the roof terrace.
Stepping aside I let her pass me, the strike of the stiletto of her ankle strap heels confidently striking the hard wood floor, as she approaches the vast four poster bed in the centre of the room.