DISCLAIMER: The story you will get to read here is PURE FICTION! All happenings and actions are just the result of my FANTASY and should be considered as PARODY. It is NOT my intent to harm anyone's privacy - as the persons this FANFICTION deals with are of public interest and have celebrity status.

Title: my heart is an envelope
Author: morganalefaye
Genre: het/(slash)
Pair: Joséphine/Dave/Alan
Summary: A love triangle...nothing really is as it might appear...
Rating: R/NC-17

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"Hope dies last - yet it for sure dies..."

prologue

When you're here every thought I ever had becomes clear
But when you're far the only light I ever see is the stars
And when you go the feelings burn as they grow
Cause to me... to me you're beautiful

But when you're here Josephine the stars don't shine so bright
But yeah with me Josephine you'd never sleep at night
But when you're here Josephine the stars don't shine so bright
But yeah with me Josephine you'd never sleep at night
But when you go I never sleep as I do
And in my dreams I hold you like I never will release

But when you're here Josephine the stars don't shine so bright
But yeah with me Josephine you'd never sleep at night
But when you're here Josephine the stars don't shine so bright
But yeah with me Josephine you'd never sleep at night

My Josephine
I'm dreaming of you
Are you dreaming it too
I'm dreaming of you
I scream your name
My Josephine when you're here the stars don't shine so bright
But yeah with me Josephine you'd never sleep at night
But when you're here Josephine the stars don't shine so bright
But yeah with me Josephine you'd never sleep at night
I'm dreaming of you
Are you dreaming it too
I'm dreaming of you
I scream your name (Reamonn: Josephine)


01.

Her room looks like a mess. That’s a mild understatement. You can’t even see an inch of the emerald green carpet. Dirty t-shirts, jeans, underwear – paired with empty pizza cartons, soft drink bottles and other crap. She can’t remember when she stopped worrying about it all. Strange enough there are no wine or liquor remains, nor tons of cigarette stubs adding to the sad picture. After all she still despises alcohol and tobacco. Instead theobromine kills her pain and the torn and creased layers of chocolate paper pile up on the loaden couch table. The whole scenario has something surreal. Beneath all this pile of rubbish a quite new vacuum cleaner must be hiding. The two metallic ends of the plug are glistening in the harsh sunlight.

She sits on a bit of free space of her tattered leather couch, her eyes focussed somewhere in the open space of the tiny lounge. If she twinkles hard enough the mess around her miraculously starts to disappear. Crossing her long, bare legs the dirty soles become visible. Outside the traffic noises battle with the agitated barks of at least three dogs and some mixed voices – male and female. It’s the usual kerkuffle down on the sidewalk – 5 floors away from her. Every now and then the siren of an ambulance or police car cuts into the wavering sounds, swelling to a nearly unbearable howl – to decrease continuously again and disappear. She even stopped wondering if one of those vehicles might stop in the neighbourhood. It’s New York after all. It’s metropolis and it wears a dirty, loud and nasty face. Life is fast, always in motion. Nobody cares if you’re out off breath. They keep on pushing and running you over – if you let it happen.

The alarm of her mobile phone goes off. She sighs and slowly gets up, trotting to the bathroom. It seems to be the cleanliest room in the flat. Stepping out of her panties and sleep shirt she enters the shower cabin and opens the hot water valve. No time for a relaxing bath. She needs to hurry to get ready for work. Well, it’s one of her jobs as she calls it. Actually it’s not, but she somewhat takes it serious. It’s important for her. Keeps her last shreds of sanity.

Shampooing her long, dark hair she sighs. Promptly some lather makes it into her open mouth and she has to cough and quickly spit it out. Adds to the disgusting feeling that creeps down her back. She’s not keen at all. She could easily do without going ‚there’. Avoiding the name doesn’t make it better. Again and again she tells herself she just follows her inner call. Yes, it’s kind of love-hate thing. If being honest she stopped feeling real emotions. Never give away the heart not to get hurt. Hope dies last – yet it for sure dies...

***

„Joe! Josie!!“
She flinches and nearly destroys all the hard work she spent on her black lid line. Turning her head from the mirror in the crammed dressing room her eyes meet a pair of ice blue ones, belonging to a blond, curly woman.
„Sorry, didn’t want to shock you.“
„Gosh, Gina!“
She musters the other female in dark latex while adjusting the straps of her jet black leather corset.
„You’re already leaving?“
„Yeah, some strange vibes. Jerome should be here any minute. He was chatting with some acquaintance when I left him, bored to death.“
„I really wonder how you could get bored in a fetish sex club, but hey – what do I know?“
„You’re not a regular so far. How many times until now? Three, four?“
„Six. Today’s the 7th time. Let’s hope it’s my lucky number.“
The other woman started changing, grabbing a plain jeans from her locker. Looking over to Josy she smirks.
„You might be busy. There’s not much dominance in that den of iniquity.“
„I’m not a professional.“
„Well enough, but word travels by mouth. Your favourite slave seems to have brought a friend of his. They keep on looking for you since an hour or so.“ Gina giggles. „He was too shy though to ask me.“
„Your hubby scaring him off flexing his muscles?“
„Yeah, exactly!“ She closes the zipper of her sports bag and quickly fixes her long, platinum locks with a clip.
„Good luck, Mistress Joséphine. Beat them demons out off your head.“
She blinks, pecks Josie’s cheek and then leaves the dressing room.

01. part two

Nervously she adjusts her over-knee high heel boots. The shiny leatherette material promises more than she might be able to keep. Walking down the aisle she scans the club. It’s moderately crowded for a Thursday night. Stopping at one of the bars she orders a cranberry mineral. Sipping at the sizzling liquid her eyes wander around again. Lots of lost souls as she calls them. A bit like herself. Looking for the thrill, whatever that might imply.

Leaving the common lounge area with the soft, comfy leather couches, stylish design bar stools and plush boxes she enters the more theme oriented rooms. Watching a gang bang for a moment she cocks one brow. Damn, that woman for sure seemed in need! Usually the one who wants or needs some sticking in lays down on that black leather cushion in the middle signaling others he or she’s available for more than the usual fuck.

She’s too busy with her own thoughts that she would start counting. There are at least five men at the go. Moving on she knows that the ‚dark zone’ will pop up to her left soon. If you want to meet someone in the ‚zone’ it’s pretty obvious it’s about some sort of domination and submission. Some sort. She still feels a little uncomfy looking at all those weird utensils draped over the black and crimson-red walls. Certain ones remind her of medieval ages, others of a hospital’s emergency room. Tastes vary, that’s for sure.

The compartment is surprisingly empty. She places her mid size, braided whip onto the next bench and checks for the water supply. Rod did his job and left some mineral bottles in the little corner mini bar.
God, I’m no pro and I’m no slut! What am I doing here?!

She has no time to feel dirty as a low, smooth voice addresses her from behind.

„Mistress? Are you available for your favourite slave?“
Turning around she looks into a pair of familiar, dark-brown eyes. He’s not alone – just like Gina already prompted. Stretching her posture her index slides along the leather mask that covers her face just to the bridge of her nose, adjusting her long, dark hair. The man next to him is slightly taller, well defined body. The latex body he wears does not leave much to the imagination. It’s like a second skin – leaves just the calves uncovered. Every part of the garment seems to be linked with zippers. It would be a nice way undressing him at least. She tries to get an impression of his face as it’s covered in the same fashion as hers. Full, plump, expressive lips and a quite prominent nose. She has to snicker inwardly thinking about the saying concerning the correlation of nose, feet and size of a man’s pride. His pride for sure is a bit of something and he’s definitely aroused.

Her regular submissive subject wears his leather bondage gear again. She’s always amazed how sexy it looks on his soft, pale skin. Nevertheless – he’s a little creepy at times. She can’t put her hand on it what it really is. Never having seen his face as well she’s no other points of reference than her intuition.

„Mistress Joséphine, I’m leaving my friend in your care and under your whip. It’s my last visit for a longer while. My job demands it. I’m inconsolable.“

She’s baffled to feel sort of disappointment. He’s clever and smart. It’s not the obvious kinky stuff he usually wants. He’s all for the mind games. It was a big relief when she first set a foot into this place, not really being a novice to bondage and stuff, but she was overwhelmed by the real extent of the ‚dark arts’ as she calls it. He kinda put her under his wings – which sounds odd as he’s the submissive part. Again a faint smile threatens on her lips. It’s funny that most people presume visitors of such a club talk like their roles all the time. Gosh, if you go watch a stage play there are intermissions where everbody is him- or herself again. It’s just that you tend to stay anonymus more or less. For obvious reasons.

„Oh, is it already time?“ The emotion in her voice is honest. „I will certainly miss you around.“
The addressed man smiles and bows his head shortly.
„The pleasure was all mine. I told my friend about your qualities and your discretion. You will not be disappointed while I’m gone.“
„Any special whishes?“
„Ask him. He pretends to be a bit shy at first. I have to catch the next flight in about an hour, I’m sorry.“
She already wondered a little why the other man stayed silent so far, but there isn’t anything anymore that could really make her wonder. Not anymore.
„May I kiss your gorgeous boots for a last time, Mistress?“
He goes down to his leather clad knees and bends over, waiting for her permission. Images of him doing way nauthier things with her boots flicker through her mind, resulting in a pleasant tingling down to her groin.

She offers him her right leg and he clasps his muscular fingers around her ankle, slowly kissing along the shiny material. When he’s finally ready he looks up, smiling.
„Would you release me now?“
She nods nearly imperceptibly and he gets up. With two fast claps with her open hand she strikes his cheeks. The arm length, black gloves leave a mild redness there.
„Thank you, Mistress. I will go and suffer well.“ Turning to his mate he winks. „You should know about it. Take your chance.“ He pats his shoulder. „I’ll give you a call when I’m back in New Orleans.“

That’s the first personal info she gets from him. He usually painstakingly avoided to talk about anything that could give away a hint concerning his real life personality. She might have a clue though. He once talked about electronic music and she couldn’t help that he sounded well informed on some technical details. Who could really know? More important – who really wanted or needed to know? You strip your identity kinda in the dressing room and step into the role and mask you want to impersonate. No more no less. That’s what she thought so far.

After her favourite slave left she gives the remaining man a good looking-over and finally fixes his olive eyes. No idea, but there’s some kind of string inside her resonating, feeling kind of vibe. She tries to shake it off and walks around the waiting guest.

„So, you are in need for some more strict and rigid treatment?“
He just blinks at her, staying silent. It’s somewhat irritating as club visitors usually negotiate before starting any sort of business.
„You need to give me a few hints and tell me a code word for a start.“
Again he just holds her view and then simply offers her his wrists, crossing his arms. She takes them and encircles them tightly with her strong fingers.
„I can tie you in different ways. You have to be a little bit more concrete.“ She waits for another reaction. „In the end I do not need bonds or cuffs for it. It’s all up to you.“

He swallows, his Adam's apple wandering up and down under his throat’s skin. Piercing her with his mesmerizing irises she starts to wonder if he’s really the one he pretends to be.

„It takes a bit to hold me captive. If you’re brave enough that is.“ He swiftly wets his lips. „Blackout.“
She still fixes his wrists with her hands, holding his view. „OK. You let me figure out?“ His velvet, dark baritone still gives her crawlies and she’s glad he can’t see them under the layer of fabric.
God, I know this voice from somewhere!
„Hurt me to take away my pain.“ Then he places his index finger onto his lips hinting to her he wouldn’t speak any more.

01. end of chapter

She reaches for the thin silk bonds, lets them slip through her fingers, observing him. Then she puts them back and grabs the more sturdy leather ones and adjusts them around his still waiting wrists. Following the path of the superficial veins she detects a few light yet visible scars on the right offhand.
Oh, you’ve been down that road, my sombre, silent friend!
How she comes to that conclusion – him being the melancholic type – escapes her at the moment as she finished tying him and has to look for the next task.

„Show me your palms.“
He opens his hands. She turns her back to him, bending deliberately down to fetch a riding crop from a bottom shelf on the wall. Bottom – he for sure has a pleasant sight of her qualities, tightly wrapped in black leather. Facing him again she immediately sees the naughty glimmer in the green-brown irises. Without any warning the riding crop bites into his flesh, leaving a stinging heat. He doesn’t even twitch. His expression kinda tells her ‚Is that all?!’. She roughly takes him by the leather bond and pulls down a chain with snap hook from the ceiling. After she attached him and adjusted the tension he now stands on his balls, more tiptoes. Not in a hurry she lets the end of the crop glide over the slippery latex surface of his left hip – avoiding the tight crotch. He can’t completely hide his disappointment and she has to smirk openly now.

„Who do you think you are, Mr. Nobody? You do not have a name here, you do not even have a face. And after all – you are not to make any claims, verbal or nonverbal.“
„Or what’s going to happen?“ He seems to have decided against his vow of silence. She looks over to the gags and he follows her with his eyes.
„Blackout.“
Freezing sort of in her motion she faces him, disbelief written all over her features.
What the frigg?!

Wordless she loosens his restraints and puts the items back at it’s place. He stretches his arms and smoothes over his wrists. Without another comment he leaves the room.
Shit, how did I mess it up?!
She sinks onto the stretching bank, scratching her chin. For sure it’s due to her naive approach. Seems he wasn’t here for just a spanking – and she’d known it from the start. Why did she play that bloody role in the end?!
Cause his scars made you shut a door? Knowing fully well you wouldn’t be safe any longer?
He read her like a book, she can’t help to come to that conclusion. She didn’t want to believe it, ignored the fact that he must have ripped down her dominant disguise the minute their eyes met fort he first time – when she felt those weird vibes.

„Oh God! I made such a fool of myself!“

Feeling naked all of a sudden, dirty and lonely, she decides to return to the dressing room and to act like she often does: Running away.

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