Page 3 of Of Monsters and Mazes

So I took the bait, figuring if nothing else, this was the most stimulating conversation with a man I’d had in years. As arrogant as he was, he at least offered literacy and eloquence that the rest of the dating pool wasn’t.

Me: You speak like such an authority on who I am for someone who only knows me by a handful of sentences on a dating profile.

Jericho: No, I know you by the look in your eyes. It’s one I’ve seen in my own reflection for too many years.

I wanted to sigh, because now I was sucked in and there was no turning back.

Me: That doesn’t sound like the sentiment of an untouchable king.

Jericho: No one is untouchable when they’re alone, especially not a king. History has taught all of us that.

I paused on that statement for several moments. Despite his initial greeting, he was unexpectedly poetic and emotionally vulnerable, and I didn’t mind that. It was refreshing, honestly. Cynicism told me it was a trap to bait me into revealing too much about myself, but that naïve child at the parade told me I wasn’t out anything to give hope a chance.

Me: So you think we’d be indomitable if we were together?

Jericho: Yes and no.

I raised a brow, despite being too invested to not hear him out.

Jericho: I think our place on the throne would never be contested if we sat side by side, but I also think you would be terribly unhappy if you still had to clench your iron fist behind closed doors. The burden of control will be my cross to bear, and you’ll submit to your pleasure and trust me to take care of you. I’d assure the world forever bowed at your feet, but you, my queen, would buckle only for me.

Though vaguely resembling sweet nothings, this was probably the point where I should have lashed out. The idea of me being subservient to him, like I’d owe him for the status he’d give me, was disgusting, abhorrent, and went against everything I stood for.

But that stupid, contradictory knot in my stomach wondered what it might be like to have a safe place where I didn’t have to always be the dominant figure. Where I didn’t have to always have it all together and could let someone else take the reins, even if just for the night, when no one else was looking. Was I allowed to want that without losing my credibility?

This was dangerous, controlling, and one red flag after the other. But then… what if it wasn’t? Right now, this was just flirting and banter. Feeling out each other’s fantasies and interests wasn’t inherently wrong, and he’d given me enough glimpses of emotional intelligence to think he wouldn’t respond badly if I shut him down. I wasn’t falling into some narcissistic mind game. I was smarter than that. It’s not like I was so simple that good dick would keep me in a bad relationship anymore. He could be a safe place to live out a fantasy I’d always wanted to try, and if he wasn’t, I didn’t have to see him again.

The too vivid thought of a serial killer locking me in a cage in his basement flashed through my mind, and I made a mental note to stop watching so many true crime documentaries. Statistical likelihood of being kidnapped and tortured by a man on a dating app wasn’t exactly high.

But it wasn’t zero. Never zero.

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the unexplained discomfort in my gut and tug at my intuition. It was with the utmost care that I crafted my reply.

Me: Say you’re right. Maybe I wouldn’t mind letting someone else take control for once. What would dominating me look like to you?

Jericho: Let me paint a picture for you.

This should be good.

Jericho: You’re going about your day at the office, everything orderly and in place, just like it always is. The day ends, but you’re dedicated, so you stay late. That project could wait until tomorrow, but it will reflect better on you if it’s finished tonight. You’ve always had to do more than everyone else, after all.

Eerily accurate.

Jericho: Exhausted, but satisfied that your work has been completed, you step into the elevator, long after everyone else has gone home. You step out into the lobby and the doors close behind you. That’s when you hear quiet footsteps, steady, light, careful, and tactful, like a predator sneaking up on its prey. Maybe it’s security, you tell yourself, but you know these hallways are empty at this late hour, because you’ve done this so many times before.

My imagination was moving a thousand miles a minute, and I watched his description play out in my mind like a vivid and enthralling movie. It was easy to picture, because it was word for word my every day.

Jericho: Spooked, you consider heading back up to the office. You call for the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, hoping it will arrive before those footsteps do. The elevator pings, and the doors slide open. Relief rushes through you. You’re safe.

Jericho: Only there’s nothing safe about being locked in a windowless box, my princess. You haven’t even fully exhaled when a soft rag covers your mouth, and you take in the sweet scent of an unknown drug. It’s too late to stop yourself from breathing it in. In your shock and surprise, you’ve ensnared yourself in a trap. The last thing you see are my beautiful eyes and perfect smile as you black out in my arms.

My mental movie kept playing, but it wasn’t curiosity in my core anymore. The scenario wasn’t fantasy, and it certainly wasn’t sexy.

Another message pinged.

Jericho: When you awaken, you’re in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by a cursed forest and the walls of an imposing fortress. Danger lurks in every shadow, and there’s no one to protect you except your own strength. You can hear the low growl of a monster coming from an indiscernible direction, and every sound makes you jump. Your head is throbbing from the drugs, while the fear climbing up your spine is so visceral you want to puke.

What in the actual fuck. My lips pulled back, and I cringed with my whole face. The switch from stalker rhetoric to fantasy land gave me whiplash, but also started easing my own initial unease. Maybe he’s a tabletop dungeon master or something?