The Waiting Room is a novella set in the half-light, haunted world of present day Cambodia. It explores the themes of sexual domination and submission from both a physical and psychological perspective.
“We are all animals, Sophie, all of us. We think we are so smart – masters of our destinies, yes? We lie to ourselves that we have control. But if it does not rain, we die of thirst. If it rains too much, we drown.”
Everyone needs to discover his or her own special place in the world, but Sophie has found it almost impossible. Late one night, in the tumbledown waiting room of a derelict Cambodian train station, she meets a stranger who offers to change her life.Having seen how fleeting and cruel life can be, Alex has found his own way to deal with its uncertainty. With the help of Marcus, his mentor, he has come to believe it is only through artificially imposed order and physical discipline that one can find a semblance of serenity. Alex is certain he knows how to cure Sophie of her existential angst. But lurking beneath his altruism, does he have his own agenda?
The Waiting Room contains graphic sex scenes. Although it contains romantic elements, it does not follow the conventions of a romance.
It’s available for purchase here / />
* * *
From Claudia D. Christian’s review:
End thoughts? Alex wiggled into my mind. I came into The Waiting Room expecting a hot D/S story. I left it stripped. The story stirred up questions in me, ones that had been there for years. Just like Alex didn’t allow Sophie to turn away from her truths, I wasn’t allowed to turn away from mine. I strongly, strongly suggest anyone who is looking for erotica with depth to read The Waiting Room. It is worth the mind-fuck. Truly. Honestly.
* * *
She looked up, startled out of her hypnotic state by the whisper. It was out of place amidst the clatter and hum.
“What?” she whispered back.
“Show me. Uncross your legs and show me.”
“No! Stop it!” The whisper made her words sound like something in a frying pan.
The droplet of sweat inched its way across her lower abdomen and slid uncomfortably into her crotch. Had she been wearing underwear, the fabric would have soaked it up, but, being without them, Sophie feared that the droplet had carved a path in her skin along which all future droplets would now travel. Sophie felt a foot prodding at her calves.
Alex grinned at her and slid down in his seat, crossing his gangly legs and resting his interlaced fingers smugly on his stomach, like a lazy adolescent watching television.
“Sophie-the-slut, show me what’s mine.”
She felt Alex prod her again with his foot. The compartment was an inferno; the air funneling through the window was blast-furnace hot. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she couldn’t imagine how anyone could have a libido under these circumstances. The runnel of sweat that had wound its way between her legs felt like a river now and Sophie was sure that if she stood up, the back of her dress
would be one ugly sodden rag. He gave her a grin, and prodded her calf again.
Hot and irritated, hardly caring now, Sophie spread her legs just to make him stop kicking at her, and glowered at him.
“Happy?” she whispered harshly.
It took her a moment or two to notice that his expression had changed. The grin was gone and Alex leaned forward, stood and grabbed her by the wrist.
“Come with me!” he said low and terse as he yanked her to her feet and out the door of the compartment, into the passageway. He didn’t stop there, but pulled her along behind him as he strode down the aisle, looking into compartments. Finally, he stopped at a small, narrow door and tried the handle. It opened and he stepped in, jerking her in with him. It was some kind of a storage space, not large enough to be a luggage compartment, or small enough to be a broom closet. It wasn’t until she was fully inside that the stench hit her.
It was the toilet. There was no sink, only a metal rack, and in the floor, a hole the size of a dinner plate, down through which she could see the ties whizzing by. No one had cleaned it in years.
Alex slammed the door behind her and pushed her against it.
“For fuck’s sake, Alex!” she yelled at him as her the back of her head hit the door painfully. “What’s your problem?”
“What is yours, Sophie?” he demanded in return, pinning her shoulders back. His face was inches from hers; she could hardly breathe for his proximity and
the stench in the tiny room. “Where did you learn to hate yourself like this? Who taught you to be so ashamed?”
She stared back at him, lips pressed tight. What could she say? Shaking her head slowly, understanding his question and wishing to god she had an answer for him. “I don’t know.”
Alex nodded just once and pressed her into the door with his body. “We need to find out, Schatze. You need to find out.”
“Can we please get out of here now?”
He nuzzled her neck with his face, moving his lips up to her ear. “Don’t you want to fuck?” he asked, grinding his hips against hers.
“Yes, why not?” he replied, his hand sliding over her breast and squeezing
“Not here, Alex. It’s filthy…it’s sordid.”
His body was relentless, undulating against her, his hands drifted for secret place to secret place, probing her, kneading her. “Yes, it is.” Alex’s voice had gone liquid and suggestive. “It’s filthy. Sophie-the-slut, let’s fuck…”
He covered his mouth with hers, coaxing it open to slide in a busy, hungry tongue. The kiss forced her to breathe through her nose and, as the smell invaded her, she tried to shift beneath him. But Alex wasn’t having any of it, pulling her dress up and burrowing a hand between her legs.
“I don’t want to, Alex, not here, please!” Sophie pleaded as she pulled her head away.
“Then why are you wet, Schatze?”
Only then, did she notice how easily his fingers slid between her labia; she was, in fact, incredibly wet. His fingers worked at her persuading, cajoling.
“I don’t know…” Sophie whimpered.
“No. Perhaps not, but your body does.”
Resting the full weight of his chest against her, she felt him fumbling with his zip, then with her dress, and pushing into her. The force with which he did it slammed her to the door.
He began to fuck her hard, every thrust almost lifting her off her feet. Pure and raw and uncomplicated, it begged her whole attention, leaving room for nothing.
Alex leaned his forehead against the door, by her shoulder, inches from her
ear. He held her hips against him with a hand at the base of her spine. “Now, tell me–tell me–you don’t–want to fuck.” The words, propelled with the force of his thrusts, held anger and a challenge and a climax almost achieved.
Closing her eyes and tightening her grip on his shoulders, her fingernails bit down into the fabric of his shirt. Perhaps she heard ripping. She would have told him–that she did, that she loved it, that it was so good–but the intensity cut out her tongue.
And anyway, she was coming too fast.