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1
Kingsley
T-minus three hours until I’m on a plane to Australia.My New York apartment, with its panoramic views of the city, offers a solitude that is both comforting and imposing.Everything here is controlled, precise, just how I like it.
Lola, my submissive for the evening, kneels before me.Her eyes are lowered, and she is still, waiting for a command, a sign of what I want from her.But I’m already distancing myself, my mind shifting to the responsibilities that await me overseas.
“Is there anything else you require, Master?”she asks, breaking the silence, her voice soft and respectful.
I consider her question, my mind already cataloging the tasks that need to be accomplished before my departure—meetings to schedule, reports to review, a whole world of control that never stops demanding.
“No,” I reply, my voice measured and unemotional as ever.“You’ve done well.”
She bows her head.“Thank you, Master.”
I rise, moving to the window.The city stretches out before me, a chaotic dance of lights and shadows, full of life and yet somehow empty.
Like me.
Lola doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.She’s been well-trained, understanding the boundaries and the rules, just like all the others from the agency I use.
Time is slipping away, and I can’t afford to linger.There are people relying on me, and I won’t let them down.My life is a carefully constructed machine, and I’m the one holding the controls.
“I’ll make arrangements for your transportation home,” I tell her, my back still to her.
Her acknowledgment is a soft, “Yes, Master.”
I head to my study, checking my email and reviewing my itinerary.Everything is in order, meticulously planned and executed.Just like always.
Back in the living room, Lola has not moved.A pang of something unexpected hits me when I look at her.A fleeting connection?No, that’s impossible.I don’t allow connections.
“You may leave,” I tell her, and she rises, her movements graceful and controlled.
“Safe travels, Master,” she says, and there’s a longing in her voice I refuse to acknowledge.
The car is waiting when I leave the apartment, and I sink into the back seat, allowing the familiar streets of New York to pass me by in a blur.
With practiced efficiency, I arrive at the airport, moving through security, and board the plane.Settling into my seat, I pull out my laptop, already focused on the work that awaits me.
The plane takes off, the city falling away beneath me, and I feel a strange sense of loss.Not for Lola, not for the fleeting pleasure she provided, but for something deeper, something I can’t quite identify.
But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by the cool, calculating focus that has become my shield.
Control, precision, detachment.
Principles I have lived by ever since leaving school and joining the 75th Ranger Regiment in the US Army.
As the plane cruises toward Australia, I immerse myself in my work, my world reduced to protecting a pop star.
I shake my head at what my life has been reduced to.
One year ago, Kingsley Williams, three times Silver Star recipient for gallantry fighting our enemy and risking one’s own life in the call of duty.
Six months ago, I was honorably discharged.
“Mr.Williams?”a voice pulls me from my self-loathing.“Can I offer you a drink, sir?”the flight attendant smiles flirtatiously, and I forget I’m in first-class on someone else’s dime.
“Whiskey, make it a double.”
