Chp1: what could happen

I come jogging thru town hooking off Flanders Ave onto the waterfront park walkway. The beautiful Waterfront Park is a slice of green along the slow Willamette river, I race myself, after a good eight miles. I feel elated, king of the world. The sun is just peaking over Mt. Hood, as I spy the silhouette of the River Palace hotel. Usually I stay at the Heathmen, but a busted water pipe in my suite, had me move down to the river edge at the River Palace. Taylor will be pissed, I let him sleep this morning, but I needed space to think and make decisions. My life as of late run aground in boredom and joyless pursuits. A few final checks on the WSU Argo grant, an interview for the student newspaper for next month's graduation, and I can get home. I need a new submissive or do I, the last two bored me. Eliana is losing her touch. I ignore the homeless people sleeping along the parkway, under the bridges, as other early morning joggers run by. I see ahead a homeless waif playing guitar, a haunting electric guitar melody, booms from a small amp.

"GREY, Capitalist PIG!" I start to turn as two joggers over take me, striking my head. I catapult into the river side railing. Bounce back to slam into the cement. I roll over on my back, dazed and confused. As pain radiates thru my body. As the two black hooded men kick me. I try to defend, understand. But everything is a fog, a distortion of sight. I can't hear anything. Like the mute buttons been pushed.

I watch as one of the men leans down, a knife in his hand, evil in his eyes. is this it. am I about to die. Regrets, so many regrets. Hugging my mom, peaks. As the knife dives for my throat. Suddenly just sun above me. I till my head, the Waif with the guitar is beating the two hooded men, to the ground. Her guitar breaks as the tallest, crashes into the railing; limp and lifeless. The other tries to escape, but she kicking his manhood like it's a 60-yard field goal shot. I tilt my face to the river, if this is my last vista, I want the peace and calm of the river.

A hand gentle turns my head, looking into my eyes. the deep ocean blue, peaceful and calm. Brown hair tucked into a plain black watch cap, frames the most exquisite face. A Greek muse would hang it head in shame to compare this beauty. She holds my hand, while calling on a cell phone. I wish I could hear her voice, her lips move and wondrous sweet voice escapes her Madonna face. A peaceful lullaby, fixes my mind. It's sweet and melodious with subtle hints of an accents, probably European, British. Yea sexy British accent. A vision of her in my bed at Escala. Withering under me, kissing me, caressing my chest. Breaking my will to leave her. I watch a bird float by the scene of my death, this early morning, just past the twilight of the night. Here in Portland waterfront park. An angel holds me, the world drifts away with the light.

I wake to concerned parents. Where the hell am I? I look about. A bed, hospital bed. What is going on. The last thing I remember. Angels singing, water flowing lazily by me. Black hooded men attacking me. Pain and anger, fill me with wraith. My leg is in a cast, my ribs hurt and my head feels weighted down. I look out the window at the snow cap of Mt. Hood. Portland, Yea Portland.

The doctor poke and prod me, I try to bat their hands away, I try to speak but the words don't come out. I rage and pout. Sulk and tantrum. I watch the moonlight dance along the window glass. Replaying what I remember in my mind. Gaps and holes plague me. The river, the angel, the homeless waif. I sputter to understand and piece the puzzle together. Sleep drift in and out with the nurses checking my vital. I watch the sun rise over Mt. Hood snow cap with bitter tears streaming down my face. My mother is dead and gone. Buried these twenty-two years in an unloved grave outside of Detroit. What a worthless son am I.

I clean up, before my parents arrive. Washing my face clean of the tears and pain. Looking at a duck hover as he dives into river far way. His ring neck speaks of noble beast, with not but breakfast in the river, maybe a mate or two to share the feast. The haunting melody from Angel plays about my head, soothing and calming me. I wish I was outside, despite the chill, that must be about, before the heat of the day breaks such clean scents and innocent scenes. As joggers pound the broken cement of Portland downtown. To race the flocks of ducks and geese along the water's edge. To feel the air lift me up and carry me along. One mind, one peace, one heart. Heart, a strange thought? I don't feel my heart, it's as if I've lost it. maybe given it away. No, stolen by an Angel, soft blue eyes, brown chestnut hair, floating about her beautiful giving face. Angel! Singing to me, just me.

The parents walk in with the breakfast tray, Taylor hover behind them. I look at the food. Shit, how can anybody eat this slop. "Mom, can't I get real food?"

They stare like I'm an alien, everyone just stares open mouth at me. "What?"

"Christian you're talking!" mom cried, taking my hand. I feel her warmth and love, sweet motherly love. I turn it over watching the bond we have. I pull her to me, reaching my left hand to pull her into my chest and love. Hugging her, with all my might. She cried bitter happy tears at this first. I feel no pain, no burning, just her love for me. I cry too at the poor son I was. Isolated and alone, I look out the window wondering what I've become.

After more doctor's exams, scans and probes, a sickening lunch. I dispatch Taylor to get me some edible food, even if we have to Shanghai Gail to Portland for my prison stay. I can remember everything and nothing. My Laptop is a treasure trove of memories, yet I feel missing something. Roz, teases me about this being a shame vacation to dump the Twainian shipyard and the food shipment on her shoulders. I find three folder passwords protected, I can't remember the password. Taylor doesn't know either, their listed under games. I have no idea why I would password them. When I get back, Barney and Fred can crack them. I should be wheelchair bound for a couple of weeks. The ribs are bruised, not broken. Unfortunately, the leg is broken just above the knee, no jogging for three months says the ego-centric white coats.

I will the day away, email, video conference and a host of phone calls. The Parents watch a movie with me before dinner. I've developed a taste for Bogart and Cary Grant classics. At night, my dreams are haunted by the Waif and the Angel.

Tomorrow, I escape this dead trap of science and healing. Away from nurses pawing and touching me. The doctors exalted self-opinion of themselves. Andrea is screening my calls to my cell phone. I just finish a teleconference to the New York office over the Morrison deal. "Mr. Grey, Mrs. Lincoln" Andrea says tinted with disgust and loathing. Very unusual behavior for her. Why a friend of my Mom's would call me?"

"Hello, Mrs. Lincoln?"

"Christian, how are you doing? Those evil eco-terrorists hurt you. when are you back home?" she says, the words grate on me, rising my suspicion.

"Mrs. Lincoln, yes. I'm pretty bang up. what can I do for you?" I ask

"Christian, so formal, is someone with you? I understand. I have the perfect submissive for you, just the way you like them, Alice has an exceptional high pain tolerance and no limits. She ready within forty-eight-hour notice for the next month only. She very in demand, as you can imagine. I'll email you her bio and audition tapes, you'll love the rope works, very Nawashi Ito Kinbaku." She talking and I have no idea what the fuck she talking about. I need space to get answers. Stranger still I understand the Japanese. The rope master Ito of erotic rope bondage. Something about BDSM.

"Mrs. Lincoln, thank you but not right now. Maybe in a month after I heal, I don't expect Alice to wait on my recovery. Please don't find another till I call you. thank you for calling." I say and hang up. I speed dial Taylor. I need answers.

Xxxxx

Taylor enters the room, this will have to be short, the adults are due in thirty minutes. If anyone knows what the fuck the Lincoln bitch is talking about it will be Jason. Whoa it weird that I would think of her like that. It's like I only have bad and paranoid thought when I think of her. I need answers!

"Jason, I just had a weird call from Eliana Lincoln, she offered me a submissive. What can you tell me about it?" I ask. His face betrays several emotions, most fearful and harsh.

"Christian I don't understand?" Jason asks me. Shit man I don't understand?

"What is my relationship with Lincoln? Why would she offer a BDSM submissive? And why can't I remember anything about this all." I whine in frustration.

"What do you mean you don't remember? You passed all the test, all the business, people, you had no impairment from the head trauma. So what don't you remember?" Jason ask concerned, very concerned.

"I remember nothing about Lincoln, or sex for that matter. Tell me. Make sense about the call she just dumped on me." I beg

"Christian, you're a Dominate in BDSM. You have submissive come to the Penthouse on the weekends, taking them into your playroom" Jason says

"I have a dungeon in my penthouse! Submissive? What does Lincoln do?" I try to wrap my head around the facts.

"Yes, you do. Lincoln finds, interviews and recruits your submissive, I believe from conversations I've heard you started as her submissive in High School till your twenty first birthday. You owe her for making you successful. You own a string of Beauty salon & spas with her." Jason tells me. High school? How young was I? I was pretty screwed up in my early High school years. I co-own a string of beauty salons. Why the fuck would I do that stupidity. Or deal with Lincoln. I boggle the mind.

"How many submissive?"

"Fifteen" Jason tells me. Shit that's a lot, or is it.

"Do I still have one, if Lincoln is offering me one?

"you've not had one for close to three months. She been pestering you every week. You seem surprised? No memories of this? Jason ask cautiously like I'm pulling his chain, or testing him.

"Nothing, I want whatever files I have on the submissive, Salon's and Lincoln. Particular financials and CPA accounting file. Do my parents know?" I ask looking at the clock on the wall. Their due any minute.

"Ok, a no they don't know, but you should see a doctor." Jason says I nod. He trots off to get one of the morons in white. My parent enters and we make small talk till the neuro-surgeon shows up. Mom get really upset.

"I understand you're having memory problems?" he asks. Shit should I ask them to leave? Mom looks too upset to listen. Shit, jump off the edge of the pool, Christian.

"Yes, it seems I've forgotten a particular part of my life. My sex life and several people in it." I say red faced, my parents think I'm gay. Boy, are they in for a shock.

"What do you mean, you think your sexuality has changed, or you can't remember significant people you've had sex with." Lab coat ask.

"I mean. I have no memories of the sexual lifestyle I lead, the women in it. or how I got into it. it's a blank." I say

"do you feel your sexual preference has change, are you motivated by a different sex, or preference." Lab coat is annoying me.

"No, I still feel attracted to women, it's what and how I use to do it with them. That is missing" I'm getting angry

"How did this come about? You knowing its missing?" lab coat states.

"A former sex partner called me. Demanding I participate. I had no idea what she meant or what she was saying." I vent. I suddenly see mom head pop up and realization in her eyes. She leans forward cupping my face. She looks deep into my soul with those only a mother knows piercing eyes.

"Eliana. You had sex with Eliana. When? Christian. When?" she demands

"I don't know, Taylor thinks high school maybe. It stopped when I was twenty-one he told me." I cave to her motherly gaze.

" Jason! What do you know about this?" mom turns on him as lab coat flee the room. Which has gotten hot and small with mom's temper on display.

"I know she holds it over him that she's his only friend, that she cured his wild ways, that when you find out about his lifestyle choice. You'll abandon him. That she supplies his playmates. Encouraging him to harder, more disciplined, and live the lifestyle to the extreme." Jason says without saying BDSM once.

Mom walks to the window, tapping her foot. Shit this is bad. I've seldom seen this side to mom. When I nearly drown trying to out swim Elliot during a vacation to Australia. Or the third expulsion from High school. She stares outside for seem like a life time.

"Christian, does any of this information jog your memories?" she asks steady and calm sounding. But I know she anything but calm and controlled.

"No, I don't remember any of it. I don't understand why it's the only part of my life missing." I breath in pain. I'm causing my mom to suffer. Will she forsake me. Or love me less?

"Jason, were the partners consensual?" she asks

"Yes Mama. I wouldn't have allowed it otherwise." Jason states, it makes me feel a little better.

"Christian, I know what Eliana likes to do for sex. I accepted it because it was consensual between two adults. But I know exactly when she started on you, a fifteen-young boy is neither consensual or legal. Carrick if we can't do anything legal about it, I will want twelve minute alone with her, one for every year she abused you. you see that she abused you Christian?"

"I don't know mom. I don't know anything that occurred, why, how, I just don't know?" I say more confused and isolated. She raped me at fifteen, convinced me to isolate myself from friends, family, staff. I need information and facts. I need time to digest all this.

The lab coat reenters with staff and a gurney. Mom holds my hand as I'm wheel to a MRI for a brain scan.

MRI control room, Carrick, Grace, Jason, three Neurosurgeon, and lab tech:

"we have his scan from the car crash when he was 17. This shadow was ignored due to the poor quality of the scan at the time. This is one just finished. See the faint outline of the same area. It classic remnants of a lesion. We believe he had a lesion, which his current head trauma caused to deteriorate. We believe this may be the reason for his very specific memory loss although it is highly unusual given its location. We counselled a specialist in this type of memory loss in Britain. We hope to hear back from him tomorrow." Surgeon one says

Grace ask. "I don't remember memories stored in that area?"

Jason asks "What exactly does that area do?"

"Brain mapping is in its infancy, but fear is associated with that area. Why that's causing memory loss, we don't know. Usually a patient with damage to that area has irrational constant fear, panic" surgeon two

"He had that before, now he doesn't. his touch issues are lessened, it like the reverse has happened" Jason says hopeful

"how long do you think the lesion was there?" Grace ask

"hard to say, but the remnants are very deep and encased within the cell structure. We believe he must have been extremely young, possible five or earlier" surgeon two says with the other nodding.

Grace looks thru the window at the sedated Christian on the MRI table. Carrick holds her tight, she mumbles just a whisper "If I ever find that Pimp, he'll wish to hell he never touched my son." we hear her rage.