by Jason Luke
She closed her eyes and seemed as though she might drift off to sleep. I tugged on my jeans. Nancy’s eyes fluttered uncertainly open.
“Did you…?” she asked softly.
I shook my head. “This wasn’t about me,” I said. “And I don’t need to come every time we’re together. This was about you and about submission. There are going to be times when you give yourself to me, and other times when I reward you. That’s what this was about.”
Nancy frowned. She sat up slowly. There was a lingering flush of warm color across her chest and neck that only now was beginning to fade. She came up onto her knees and reached out for me. She rubbed at my cock through my jeans. I was still hard – and I would be for some time yet.
“Are you sure?” she asked. In her gaze was an ache simply to please me.
“I am sure,” I said. I stepped away from the bed, pulled on my t-shirt. I had a piece of paper in my jeans pocket. I brought it out and handed it to Nancy. “That’s a list of things I need you to get.”
She scanned the note, her gaze moving down the page quickly. At the last item she stopped and looked into my eyes with utter incomprehension.
Her voice faltered with confusion. “I can get the ball-gag and the spreader bar,” she said confidently. “And I already have handcuffs and plenty of silk scarves. I can pick up a riding crop tomorrow on the way to work… but what’s this?” her voice became kind of tremulous and awed. “What’s Vegemite? Is it like… like a special BDSM contraption that is inserted into a submissive woman’s vag–”
“No,” I said. “It’s a breakfast spread. Australians put it on their toast. You need some in your refrigerator if you ever want me to stay overnight.”
Chapter 31.
Wednesday night’s program went well, although I admit to being distracted by thoughts of Nancy. I wondered if she was in bed, and if she had pleasured herself since I had left.
I wondered how she would look blindfolded and handcuffed…
By 3am – heading into the last hour of the program – I had made up my mind to return to her apartment after the show.
Through the window behind where April sat I could see Cecily going about her work with quiet efficiency. It was different to the way Grover had run the program – everything flowed smoothly without the occasions of chaos. It was good to have her back. I watched her work the phones and wondered how I could ever have presumed that she might have been Sondra.
Maybe she sensed my eyes on her, or maybe it was just coincidence, but Cecily looked up as I was watching her and our eyes met. She smiled shyly and gave me a brief wave. I nodded and smiled back.
“She has a little crush on you. You know that, right?” April said.
My gaze flicked to April. “Who?”
“Cecily.”
“How did you… do you have eyes in the back of your head?”
She shrugged. “Women are sensitive,” she said with enigmatic vagueness. “We know things – like when another woman is making girly eyes at a man.”
“Girly eyes?”
April’s expression changed. She tilted her head a little, widened her eyes, and softened the smile on her lips. “Girly eyes,” she said again. “It’s the flirting face we make when we don’t want to come across as flirtatious.”
I smiled and shook my head. “You’re crazy,” I said. “Cecily doesn’t have a crush on me. She’s too…”
“Nice?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t the right word but it would do. “Yeah. She’s too nice.”
April smirked and pointed a warning finger at me. “It’s the nice ones you have to watch out for. They turn out to be the real tigers.”
I couldn’t resist. “And what about the loud annoying, irritating women? What do they turn out to be like?”
April’s gaze hardened – became suddenly serious. “You mean women like Nancy Collett?”
There was a long moment of tense silence. I stared back at April.
Did she know that I was seeing Nancy?
Did she suspect?
“Yes…” I said slowly. “She will do as a theoretical example. What do women like Nancy turn out to be like?”
“Trouble,” April said emphatically.
I said nothing for a long moment – April and I stared at each other across the desk. Suddenly there was a haunted, distressed look in her eyes. I read between the lines.
“Are you and Renata getting along?”
April’s lip quivered. She blinked quickly and her eyes became glassy. She became preoccupied with a flashing light on one of the monitors and I waited in the silence until her shoulders suddenly slumped and all the tension went out of her. She tried a brave little smile but it trembled off the edge of her lips.
“No.”
April was on the verge of sobbing. She took a long shuddering breath to compose herself then buried her hand in her bag for a tissue. Her expression began to crumble.
“Want to talk about it?”
April jerked her head up, then gave a hollow laugh through her tears. “Sorry!” she said. “This must seem stupid to someone like you.”
“Not at all, “ I said. I glanced at the clock on the wall again. “Let’s take one last call for the night. While I’m talking, can you schedule songs to carry us through to the end of the show?”
April nodded. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the tissue and took a couple more huffs of breath. “Sure,” she said and then tried a lopsided smile.
April spoke to Cecily through the two-way intercom while I tugged the headphones back over my ears. I heard the end of a song and glanced up at April as her voice filled the empty space. She chatted to the incoming caller for a moment before giving me my cue.
“Hello, Wanda,” I said. “This is Jericho. How can I help you tonight?”
The woman whose voice came down the line sounded intelligent, educated, and confused. I guessed her to be in her early thirties. She said she was visiting from out of town. I doubted Wanda was her real name.
“Hi, Jericho,” she said. “I just have a question about submission and what it actually means. I have the feeling it means totally different things to men and women.”
I arched an eyebrow and nodded. “I have the feeling you could be right in many cases,” I said. “Why don’t you give me a little more detail about how you’ve come to this conclusion.”
There was a sound down the line like the caller was changing the phone into her other hand. Maybe she was walking around her house as she called.
“My guy and I have started experimenting with various aspects of the lifestyle,” she began, “but I feel we’re on two different wavelengths. We talk about BDSM and we’ve done some reading about the subject… but I always feel like, to him – my guy – this is just about sex… about how he can use me for his sexual pleasure whenever he wants.”
I was nodding as I spoke. This was not the first time the subject had been broached since I had started the program. “And for you, it’s deeper than that, isn’t it? Submission for you goes well beyond just the act of surrendering yourself to his sexual commands – and that’s why you’re not feeling the connection to the lifestyle… right?”
“Exactly!” Wanda sounded breathless with her relief. “Finally someone understands!”
I sat back in the chair, pulled the microphone closer. “Wanda, what you are feeling is not uncommon, especially if the man you want to be your Master is inexperienced. A lot of guys claim they are dominants simply because the idea of sex with a woman who will obey and submit to them sounds like an easy way to get laid. And perhaps it is… for a few days. But sooner or later the woman realizes that she is not being fulfilled… and that’s different to being satisfied.”
Maybe Wanda didn’t quite get the distinction. I spelled it out for the listeners.
“Often in the very early days of a BDSM relationship it is easy for the submissive women to enjoy powerful orgasms. That might be because of the man’s technique, but usually it is be
cause of the thrill of a new adventure – the realization of a long-held fantasy,” I explained. “Sooner or later though, many women begin to wonder if there should be something more – and there should. Women are complex characters and so much of the fantasy of submission is emotional for them. It often goes beyond sex… and sometimes the sexual aspect of submission is the facet they are least interested in.”
“It sounds like you are describing me,” Wanda confessed in a soft voice. “For me submitting myself to a man is not about the sex at all. Sex is something I accept because I see it as one of the ways my submission can be reinforced, but I also want it to be deeper. I want the complete package where I can surrender my body and my mind to a man. That’s not happening with my guy at the moment, and I need to know if I am the only woman who feels this way.”
I shook my head, and glanced at April. I wondered if anything I was saying to Wanda was resonating within her.
“You’re committed to your guy because you’re in a relationship. Submitting to a man is a different kind of commitment. It can be a deeper connection than the ones of traditional relationships because often the women who submit to men surrender their independence. Being told by your boyfriend that you can’t go out tomorrow night may be the kind of thing that would normally cause conflict in a relationship. If you have submitted to a man, you accept those kinds of decisions because you trust him to know what’s best for you. That’s one of the reasons I encourage couples that want to explore BDSM to go slowly. You might find that your boyfriend is not the kind of man you can trust on such a profound level – especially if his interest in the lifestyle remains superficially sexual.”
Wanda made some sounds like she was thinking hard. She sighed down the line, and when she spoke again she sounded almost frightened… like she was afraid of what I would say next. “So what should I do?” she asked in a small voice.
I tried to sound reassuring. “Talk to your boyfriend first – not just a discussion about where to buy BDSM toys and how hard you want to be spanked. Tell him what you believe submission is for you. I assure you, you’re not alone, but I want to also be clear – your version of submission will be different to every other woman’s. Some come to the lifestyle purely for the sex. Others want emotional rewards. No two women will be exactly the same because fulfillment means something different to everyone.” I hoped I was getting through to Wanda. I hoped beyond her disappointment, she could see some glimmer of potential. “So start with a heart-to-heart talk and hold nothing back. If you can’t tell your guy everything you need from this lifestyle, then either he’s not the guy you could ever trust enough to surrender to… or you’re denying him a real chance to be the man you need.”
Wanda sounded a little brighter. She thanked me for the advice and I thought she was going to hang up. I saw April with her fingers poised above her keyboard.
“Can I ask one last question?” Wanda’s voice changed tone.
“Sure,” I said, and then shrugged my shoulders at April.
“Are you in a relationship, Jericho?”
I paused – long enough for April to flash me a curious glance – before I gathered myself. “I never talk about my personal life on the air, Wanda.”
April took her cue and we went into a block of music that would carry us through until 4am. She spun in her chair to face the producer’s booth and gestured. Cecily nodded her head and then turned her attention back to the phones. The remaining callers on line would be asked to call another night.
I took off the headphones and set them down on the desk. April combed her fingers through her hair. She stretched her back so that her breasts bulged full against the fabric of her dress, and then yawned.
“Good show,” she said.
“Thanks. You too.” I got out of the chair and paced around the studio, then stopped abruptly by the closed door. “Do you still feel like talking about Renata and what’s going on in your life?”
“Do you have the time?”
I thought about my intention to return to Nancy’s apartment and then nodded. “Sure,” I said. “I’ve got nothing planned that can’t wait.”
April gave me a bright smile of relief.
“You want coffee?”
I looked a bemused question. “Will I need one?”
April tried to smile again. “Maybe,” she said ominously. “I know I do.”
Chapter 32.
The radio station was deserted – long dark corridors devoid of life or light. Cecily had gone home after the show had ended and April and I sat alone in the studio, by the glow from the blank monitors.
Muted in the background was the soft sound of music that played by relay from the network’s main station in New York, turned down so that it was like a distant ethereal whisper.
April sighed and stared down into her coffee cup for a long time, like maybe the answers to all her questions would be there. They weren’t.
“You’ve met Renata… you have some idea what kind of woman she is, right?” April began.
I nodded. I said nothing.
April smiled wryly. “Well what you saw of her that night is pretty much what you get with Renata. She’s a powerful personality – very upfront, very forthright and confrontational…”
April was watching me with a careful, speculative gaze. She kneaded her fingers, then looked away. When she turned her head back and our eyes met again, she opened her mouth as if to say something more, then impulsively bit her lip.
I could see the turmoil and agitation in her face. She had a hundred questions, but she was trying to sort them out in her head – answering the ones she could and storing up the others until she was ready.
At last she leaned forward, hands clasped together, and rested her forearms on the desktop. Her back was straight, her focus suddenly intense. She licked her lips delicately with the tip of her tongue and her eyes narrowed.
“We’ve separated, Jericho. Renata has moved out.”
I was genuinely shocked. “When?”
April shrugged. “Yesterday.”
“Why?”
That seemed harder for April to answer. For a long time she said nothing. There were unshed tears welling in her eyes. Her face was pale. “The lifestyle… you…”
I sat back like I had been punched hard and felt the wind whistle from my lungs. “Me?”
April nodded her head like it was a secret she regretted revealing.
“How the hell did I get involved in this?” I frowned. “Was it because of the sub-club segments? I can’t believe Renata was jealous!”
April reached across the desk and put her hand on my arm. She lifted her face and stared me in the eyes. “When Renata took your hands at the apartment and did her psychic reading thing, she saw something she didn’t tell you, Jericho. She saw you and me… together.”
“What?”
April nodded. Her face was bleak but very serious. “She told me after you left. She said she could see you and me together – as lovers… or as Master and submissive,” she shrugged as if the definition wasn’t relevant. “She couldn’t get that image out of her mind.”
“But April, that’s ridiculous! I have always been a gentleman when it comes to how you and I relate to each other – you know that! I’ve never been inappropriate or flirted. I’ve never done anything that –”
“I know!” April squeezed my arm with her fingers. “I know, Jericho. And I told Renata that. I told her there was nothing going on between us. I even offered to stop modeling for the sub-club sessions. I even offered to quit working here at the station,” April threw her hands in the air as she explained. She shook her head and a single tear spilled down her cheek. She smudged it away with the tip of her finger.
“It wasn’t just you,” April said. “It was the BDSM too. That wasn’t working out. Renata was too aggressive. Too dominant. She didn’t understand the difference between a submissive and a slave.”
I was still angry – still somehow offended that I had inadvertently
been dragged into the demise of April’s relationship. “You could have just gone back to the relationship you both had before the BDSM,” I said hotly. “Or you could have talked more – negotiated what you both wanted to get out of the lifestyle. You didn’t have to break up.”
April was still slowly shaking her head. “We tried that, Jericho,” she said. “We talked and talked through the night. In the end, Renata is not the kind of woman to compromise, and after it was all said and done, I realized suddenly that I wasn’t either. I want to explore submission, and I won’t give that up. It’s not a kink for me – it’s much deeper than that. I need to follow this path wherever it leads me… and I am prepared to do that with or without Renata.” April’s expression became pained. “When I told her that, she started packing her bags. I didn’t stop her.”
For many minutes we sat in silence. April wiped away her tears and sipped pensively at her coffee. I stared at a wall, thoughts tumbling over themselves behind my blank eyes.
“So what do you do now?” I asked finally.
April tried a smile. “Well the apartment is in my name,” she said. “I still have that, and I still have my job. Nothing changes, and I’m not the only girl in Boston who has broken up with a partner. I move on,” she said with more determination than I believed she felt. “And hopefully I find myself a Master – someone more suitable to my needs that I can submit to.”
“You mean Mistress…”
April shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that…” she said softly.
I sat up. “You’re telling me that you’re no longer gay? Just like magic, your sexuality has changed overnight?”
April’s gaze was solemn and serious. “No, I’m still gay,” she said. “In terms of a loving long-lasting relationship my preference is always going to be to share my life with another woman, but a BDSM relationship isn’t like that, is it, Jericho? I mean, you’ve said it yourself. You even said it again on the air tonight.”