The Candidacy

Ok ladies... you wanted something "50 Shades," so this one is for you...

____________________

He strode out and took his pace as “Number 4,” his eyes strained from the garish fluorescent lights that illuminated the small room. He had never been in a line-up before, and this was no ordinary line-up. Of the seven men that stood with him, he would be considered average. Average height, average build, average weight. Those that joined him probably ranged from 5’6” to 6’4” in height. Two were blond, one was Asian, and one was African-American.

He stood at 6’ even, weighed in at 195 pounds, and was relatively fit, especially in comparison to the man that occupied the space to his right. Nervously, he shuffled his feet as he waited. Each of the men jumped when startled by the booming voice over the loud speaker. Unable to come to terms with how he had ended up in this position, it was all he could do to choke back the anger and tears.

“Number 1, step forward,” the voice commanded. Each man before him did the same. When the voice called his number he too did as instructed and stepped towards the large, plate glass mirror that they all knew was no mirror at all. He could only imagine the faces peering at him from the other side. Having a tendency to drift into pessimism, he feared the worst. Had he known who was standing just a few feet in front of him, separated from him by the thick pane of glass, he likely would have been pleasantly surprised.

She gazed at him for a moment or two longer than she had at the others and seemed lost in thought. “Madam?” the gentlemen with her said. “Shall I have Number 5 step forward?”

“No,” she said almost absently. “No, I’ll take this one. There’s something about him,” she replied. There was something, but she couldn’t quite put a finger on it - a familiarity about him that intrigued her. It was almost as if she had seen him before. “Yes, I’ll take him. Have him cleaned up and delivered to my penthouse.” Without another word, she turned and left, and the loud speaker voice spoke again.

“That’s all, gentlemen. Thank you. You are free to go.” A side door opened and one by one they began to file out in through the opposite side from whence they entered, Number 8 leading the way. He was about to exit when the voice spoke again. “Not you, Number 4.”

He stopped in his tracks and the others quickly walked around him. One wished him good luck, another, condolences. Eight men entered through the door to the left. Seven men exited through the door to the right. One, one lone man, was chosen, and none of the other seven would ever know of the fate that had avoided them. This caused speculation to run rampant among the candidates, as they were called. Rumors swirled, and stories told of everything from candidates being forced to fight to the death for amusement, to simply becoming house slaves, and everything in between. Colton Napier had no idea what was in store for him.

“Come on, sport. We’ve got to get you cleaned up,” the guard said.

“Where I am going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Let’s go.” The guard ushered Colton back out through same door from which he had entered the small room. This time, they turned and went left, in the opposite direction of the holding room where the candidates had been kept earlier. Colton walked into an expansive locker room, where other candidates were in various stages of grooming and dress. The guards ordered him to shower and shave. When those tasks were completed, he was forced through a process he could only describe as “extreme manscaping.” The flesh of his back and buttocks was rendered smooth, and the hair of his arms, legs and chest trimmed neatly to even length.

“What the hell is all this for? Where am I going?”

“Locker number seventeen, over there,” the guard replied. Colton glared at him. Clearly the man had a job to do, and other candidates were filing in to the locker room by the minute. Colton traversed the room and opened locker seventeen reluctantly, and the shock on his face was evident when he viewed the contents. Colton had been a successful attorney, but that was before. That was long before the thought of “Candidacy” was raised on the Senate floor, and before the crash that left him without a wife, without a job, and without a home. With no where else to turn, Candidacy was his only choice.

He had not worn a suit in well over two years’ time, and the trim, charcoal grey suit that hung in front of him was by far more elite than any he had ever worn, and he had worn good suits. The same went for the pressed, white shirt, Italian loafers, and brand new Rolex that sat in a box on the shelf. Colton dressed himself, and felt like a new man, for a moment. When another guard approached him he snapped back to reality. Whoever had purchased the rights to his debt wanted him looking good. For what, he had no idea.

Colton sat silently, an armed guard on either side of him in the back of the spacious limousine. The ride into the city lasted an eternity and ended at the front doors of the Park Place Tower. Nervously, Colton exited the car and followed the guards to the main elevators, where they left him with the elevator attendant and instructions for the attendant to take him to the penthouse. Colton nearly lost his stomach as a result of the speed with which the elevator car ascended. When they reached the top, the attendant simply held out his hand, instruction Colton to exit. The doors closed swiftly behind him, and he was alone.

The penthouse was spacious, modern, and impressive. An open floor plan allowed for ease of movement from the kitchen to the left, to dining area behind it, to the sunken living area. Overlooking the bay, the wall of windows at the far end of the penthouse afforded a spectacular view, even from where he stood in the foyer. So spectacular was the view that he unconsciously walked through the penthouse, down the steps, and to the windows for a better view.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice inquired from behind him. Startled, he turned and had his breath taken away for the second time in the span of minutes. The woman that approached him was nothing short of gorgeous. She had an air of glamour about her. The slightly sheer white blouse she wore was tucked neatly into a hip-hugging, knee length black skirt and revealed just enough of the curvature of her ample bosom to entice him. Her slender legs were covered with black nylons; the kind that had a seam down the back, started at the clips of a garter and ended nestled in a pair of thousand dollar stilettos. Her auburn hair cascaded down across her shoulders and her chocolate brown eyes seemed to glisten in the dim light. He returned her stare with his own.

“Yes, very much so,” he replied.

“I’m glad you like what you see,” she said with a wink as she walked by him, handing him a glass of champagne in the process. “Join me,” she commanded as she stepped out onto the balcony.

It wasn’t nearly as cool or windy as he had expected, as the architecture that comprised the large, outdoor patio thousands of feet in the air was designed to prevent just such things. He followed her as she walked over to a lounge chair that sat beside a small, ornate fire pit. A fire was already glowing. With a nod she bade him sit in the other chair.

Colton obliged, sipped his champagne, and waited to find out just what in the hell was happening.  They sat in silence for a few minutes as she closed her eyes and breathed in the evening air deeply. He was about to do the same when she spoke.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No.”

“Do you know why I’ve chosen you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that, either.”

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the lounge chair, crossing them seductively in the process. “You are Colton Napier, thirty-six years old, divorced, and indebted to the tune of over a half a million dollars. When the market collapsed you lost everything, and decided to take your chances by entering the Candidacy in the hopes that the task for which you were chosen would erase your debts and wipe your slate clean.”

“So far so good,” Colton replied cautiously. “But I still don’t know who you are or why you’ve chosen me.”

“If you don’t know who I am, then it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve purchased your debt, and until I am satisfied that it’s been repaid, you are mine to do with what I please.” She rose to her feet and headed back towards the patio door, wagging her finger behind her. The gesture was clearly meant to request his obedience in following.

When they were both inside, she touched a small remote control on the end table nearest her. The door closed behind him and automatic blinds descended to obscure the panoramic view they had just left behind. She sat at one end of the couch and removed her shoes while he sat in the oversized chair opposite her.

“So, you have no idea why I’ve chosen you? None at all?”

“No, I truly don’t.”

“Colton, Colton, Colton,” she began. First she stood, and then began unbuttoning her blouse as she approached him. By the time she straddled his lap, her skirt riding up just enough to expose the tops of her nylons, she had removed her top completely. Without saying another word, she placed her hands on the sides of his face and kissed him passionately. His hands found their way first to her hips, then to the small of her back, and then to her shoulder blades.  It had been more than two years since he had kissed a woman, and her kiss ignited fires within him that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She opened her eyes and stared into his as she pulled away slowly, biting his lower lip in the process.

“Like I said," she began as she slid the tie from his collar and unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re mine until I’m satisfied, and I will do with you what I please.” Leaning in closer, she nibbled at his ear before whispering “now, please me.”

© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.