Phoenix

Part 8: Anastasia

Anastasia Kristina Sokolov sat alone in the coffee shop, absently stirring her steaming cup of Earl Grey whilst reading the local paper.

She had shortened her professional name to Anya some years ago when she began to build her business empire. But right now, in her melancholy state, she was Anastasia once again, the 35 year old woman originally from St Petersburg.

Her short skirt and tight blouse attracted lustful glances from the men and judgemental glowers from the women.

She would tease them with little gestures designed to titillate; inching the skirt a little higher to reveal dark stocking tops, slow and deliberate movements of her long slender legs, an 'innocent' brush of her finger over her breasts or a seductive glance over the rims of her designer reading glasses. The men clumsily attempted to veil their lechery from their wives and girlfriends, only to fail and have to face the inevitable wrath of their partners.

It was a fun game to play with the imbeciles, always thinking with their cocks. It made her feel powerful. She regarded men as the inferior sex, and they deserved everything their testosterone-fuelled pathetic antics visited upon them.

But today she was not feeling puckish, her attention was on an article in the paper. The rest of the room paled into a distant hum:

Police continue to investigate the strange disappearance of local woman, Danielle Nystrom. Ms Nystrom has been missing for several days, leaving her apartment almost completely empty in the affluent area of Roseden. However, neighbours do not recall ever seeing Danielle move out of the apartment, and no forwarding address has been left.

Friends and family describe the woman as popular, friendly and outgoing, although they fear she may have been struggling with mental health issues of late and have expressed concern over her state of mind.

In light of new information, it is feared she had become involved with a BDSM group which may have led to her recent dismissal from her job as a paralegal in the city.

Police are appealing for information on Ms Nystrom's recent activities and urge anyone with information to come forward, regardless of how trivial they think it may be.

Anastasia read the piece with a profound sadness. She had developed a strong affection for the girl from the first time she had seen her in the club and seduced her from Lance the feckless waiter.

She thought she had found the perfect companion in Danielle, a girl who shared the same dark rapture as herself, an affinity formed on the fringes of perversion and depravity. Anya had manifested her own love in the only ways she knew how; BDSM, pain, fetish and control. Her unorthodox yet real affection had been reciprocated with a surprisingly strong propensity which she was only too happy to nurture. She had lowered her guard and allowed emotion to take root. Indeed she had broken her own strict rule about approaching a girl twice, such was the fondness she felt towards her, the girl was more than a mere plaything, there were deeper emotions at work.

To Anastasia it was an infatuation as real and tangible as any 'normal' relationship in the mainstream world, and she felt the very real pain of unrequited love. A tear almost escaped Anastasia's eye, which she quickly dabbed away with a gloved finger, lest someone should see the crack in her veneer.

She felt vulnerable and rejected, both unfamiliar and unwanted feelings. A graduate of Oxford University, such wasteful emotions had been suppressed as she transformed herself into the powerful, successful, feared and respected woman she was today. Her omnipotent reputation was built upon the steadfast pillars of legend, mystique, invulnerability ... and apathy.

Anastasia sipped her tea. She had allowed herself more than ample time to lament Danielle's apparent desertion. With a strengthened resolve she cast the weak and vulnerable Anastasia back into the depths of her psyche.

Mistress Anya drained her cup and rose aloofly, her impeccable facade restored. On her way to the exit she gently cupped the chin of a young man who had been stealing illicit glances at her, leaned close to him and blew a kiss. "Take a picture, it will last longer" she purred in her sexiest Russian accent.

As she reached the door she heard the young man's lady friend berate him publicly for his indiscretion, and the satisfying sound of a slap across the face.

She smiled widely at her mischievousness, put her sunglasses on and took herself back into her world.

End

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