Casey's Choice

by Alexis Alvarez

  “You don’t look like that’s a problem.” Max’s gaze was direct, and she flushed.

  “It’s not a problem because I avoid crap, and work out every day.” She tried to smile again.

  “So now’s your chance to ask me anything you want.” His voice was surprisingly seductive, and Casey felt her stomach lurch. Kiss me, flashed through her mind. Bend me over your lap and spank me and then—She felt her face redden. What was wrong with her? One night with a kinky man and she was suddenly after every hot-blooded male? God. She had Hunter already, what was she doing fantasizing about Max, too?

  “Okay. I will.” She nodded. “So, okay! I’ll jump right in.”

  He nodded encouragingly and made a swimming motion. “Deep end. I’m a lifeguard.” His wink made her suddenly comfortable.

  “So how did you know?” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “How did you know when to stop spanking Cassia?” It was on her mind, ever since she’d said mercy to Hunter. She was glad he’d stopped immediately, but she wanted to understand how a person could read another so well that a safeword wasn’t necessary. How could you read the signs that told you what a person really needed? Because she would have preferred to stop sooner. Did that count as a need or a want? Whose desires were more important—his or hers? How did a D/s couple learn to compromise? What if she didn’t want her boundaries pushed, and was happy to keep them right where they were? She sighed.

  He nodded. “You did go deep. All right. I know Cassia. We’ve played together many times, and it didn’t start out as hard as it looked that night. It’s taken me time to learn her reactions and adjust.”

  “What do you mean?” Casey nodded at the waiter, who dropped off water and a basket of bread and took orders, and he waited for privacy before continuing.

  “I know that when she breathes hard and moans, she’s excited and wants more. When she starts to make little snuffling noises, it means she’s reaching her breaking point. She’ll say stop from the beginning, but she only really needs me to stop when she starts whimpering and saying, ‘Ouch, ow, ow.’ And that’s the sign that I need to start slowing down. Alexa saw it too, and she checked my face to make sure I recognized it, and I did. I pushed Cassia that night, but not beyond a certain, nonverbal agreement that arose only after many times playing together.”

  “So part of it was just for show, the threats?”

  He nodded. “Yes and no. A show for us, although we let others watch. A show that’s as real as she wants it to be. Hell, I care about her. I’d never in a million years want her to hurt in a way that isn’t what she wants, or is more than she can take. And she’s a tough woman. She’d never put up with that, either.”

  “How did you get there?” She touched her water glass.

  “How does anyone?” He touched her glass too, on the opposite side, and she watched his finger draw a matching swirl to hers. “Patience and time. My grandparents lived to their late nineties. When I was a boy, I’d visit them on their farm, and I was amazed at how they could communicate with barely a word. But later on, I started seeing the small signs. When Grandma rubbed her hands together, it meant she was cold, and before she even got up to get a throw, her husband got it for her. Sometimes the dry air would irritate his throat. There was a small sound he made when breathing, a kind of raspy sigh, that Grandma recognized even before he did. When he made that sound, she brought him tea.”

  “That’s sweet.” Casey imagined a weathered, lined couple.

  “Yes. So what I did looked harsh, but I was watching her every movement, listening to her sounds, and I stopped when I knew she needed me to stop. I take a certain amount of pride in stopping just before she ever needs to tell me to. In giving her exactly what she wants. Does that make sense?”

  She nodded. “It does. But I guess the important thing is that you watch for her limits, even when it gets rough.”

  “Cassia likes that kind of rough play, Casey. She needs it. And it makes me feel—don’t laugh at this—honored, in a way, to give it to her.”

  “Why would I laugh?” She felt a sting of insult.

  “I didn’t think you would, not really. It sounds strange, though, doesn’t it? I know that even though she protests, she wants it long and hard like that. She wants to feel it for days. But she had to give me such immense trust to do that to her, trust that I earned by treating her exactly the way I promised I would, and not anything else. And I feel proud to have earned that trust.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Like a good friend, yes. But she’s married to someone else, so it’s no more than that.”

  “I don’t understand how you can play with people and not become emotionally attached.”

  “Well, I do become emotionally attached. Just not in the same way as to a primary partner. It’s different.”

  “But what if someday—” She hesitated. “What if you met a woman who likes kinky things but doesn’t want to share?”

  “Then I stop sharing.” His answer was immediate. “Of course.”

  “Just like that? You won’t miss it?” She frowned.

  He shook his head. “Probably at first, for sure, but I’ll have something richer to take its place. You know, BDSM this hard-core requires a strong body and an open mind and lots of time. I think for most people that enjoy it, there’s a window, you know? A window in which they play hard with friends or multiple partners. And then life brings change, and the kink changes, too, to fit the new life. Family. Kids. Recitals. Soccer games. Older bodies that need rest, or just can’t handle that kind of action, at least not as frequently. Spouses that prefer privacy and intimacy, the ceremony of two as opposed to a group effort. But it’s a trade that people make willingly, wholeheartedly. Life goes on and we change with it.” He laughed. “So I enjoy myself now, and fully expect that this won’t last forever. And I hope that what comes next will be even better.”

  He raised his glass to her and gave a wry grin. “Seize the day, Casey.”

  “Gather ye rosebuds,” she responded. “Absolutely. We all should do that.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You temptress, teasing me with poetry about virgins.”

  “We’re all virgins at something,” she responded, running her finger over the glass, tracing a new pattern. “Trying to find someone to help us learn.”

  “At least that’s how the fantasy goes.” He sipped his water. He winked at her, though, and his smile was genuine.

  “So that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy?” she teased. “Someday, the hard-core whip master wants a family?”

  He smiled. “I’ll settle for true love first. What’s your secret desire?”

  “I can’t tell you that.” She tossed a piece of bread at his hand, a small crumb. “Too personal.”

  “Then tell me more about college. I read your application and I was intrigued by your experience with the ETA.”

  Panic engulfed her. What was the ETA?

  “No!” Her voice came out hard and a few other diners looked. She got control and took a deep breath. “I mean, that’s just not as interesting.” She gave him a shaky smile. “College seems so… far away right now, you know? I’d rather talk about current lives and situations.” She swung her foot and her shoe slipped off like a rocket, clattering to the floor. “Shit!”

  She bent over, but Max stopped her. “It’s okay, I’ll get it for you, Sofia.” He got up from his chair and picked up the pump; frowned as he turned it in his hands. “Leather?”

  Chapter Eleven

  “What, are you anti-leather?”

  “No, I’m not.” He frowned, turning the shoe in his hands. “I assumed—never mind. This suits you. The red. Exciting and bold.” He looked up at her, and the image of this strong man kneeling in front of her made her stomach leap.

  “You got me.” She flushed. “My secret vice. I’ve always been a shoe girl, Max. I love them. Ever since I was a kid, dressing up in my mom’s fancy stuff. It’s my secret splurge item.”


  He raised one eyebrow. “I—see. Here.” He knelt by her side and took her calf in his strong hands, and the touch sent sparks up her body. “Let me.”

  When he slid the shoe onto her foot, he looked up, and his eyes were sensual, the lids lowered, and she sucked in her breath as he trailed his fingers down her shin. “There you go. All better.”

  “Thanks.” She tried to compose herself, fight the waves of desire. “Sorry about the mini freak-out.”

  “It’s okay, Sofia.” His voice was calming. “I understand if you prefer not to discuss it. It’s a heavy topic, important to you.” He tilted his head, examining her. “Right?”

  “Oh, yes. Very heavy.” She swallowed. “Lead heavy. Can we talk about the other stuff again? That’s more fun and exotic. I want to talk about that.”

  He got back into his seat. “We were discussing your fantasies.”

  “Don’t you think it’s embarrassing to share things like that?”

  “Only if you need it to be. You can trust me. What’s your sexual dream?” His low voice, almost a caress, soothed her and excited her at the same time, and her ruffled soul settled back into an even groove after the Sofia reminder.

  His eyes were locked onto her, and she felt her body heat rise. Right now, her mind was filled with images of him… doing something similar to her that he’d done to Cassia, especially the part where they fucked hard, crying out in passion.

  “You really want to hear it?”

  His voice was rough. “I do.”

  She felt a sudden surge of freedom. “All right. So here’s what I fantasize about, ever since I started researching BDSM. So I don’t think I want two guys all the time. But sometimes I dream about being punished,” and her face got even hotter, “by two handsome men. One to hold me down and lecture me and spank me and tell me I’m a bad girl, and the other to come in and help from time to time. And they go hard, like really hard and long enough to make sure I’m crying, and that I’ll have some bruises the next day. I want to know what that feels like. But not really bad bruises, just a few. And of course I’m not injured or anything, or even sore for very long that week. And it’s still super-hot even while it hurts—that part is important.

  “Okay. And I’m helpless, I have to do what they say. And once I’m crying and begging and can barely take any more, they take pity on me and touch me and make me come so hard that it’s the best orgasm of my life. And then one of them, the one I like better, I get to pick, since this is my fantasy, holds me and comforts me and we have hot amazing sex all night long.”

  “Double penetration?” He raised one eyebrow and gave her a small grin.

  “Not in this fantasy. This one is more about being held down, made to take a spanking, and then being brought to bliss.” It was amazing to be able to talk openly, without embarrassment to Max. Not only was he hot and sexy, but he was into the lifestyle she wanted to investigate. And he was so cool, and smart, and interesting! God, for years she’d met nobody worth a kiss. And suddenly, one fake name and invitation later, and it was like the universe was raining men upon her.

  “Two guys. Hmmm.” He winked. “Want me to set it up for you?”

  “No!” She raised her voice. “Max. It’s just a fantasy. Not real.”

  He shrugged. “The interesting thing is that if you want it to be real, it can be.”

  She blushed. “But I don’t know if I want it to be real, Max. Not yet. Honestly? Probably most things we fantasize about are that way. With a little hard work and creativity, we can probably make more of our dreams come true. It’s just that most people leave them there, unexamined, and don’t make plans to get the dreams out of their head and into the world.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Why is that?” she wondered, accepting her lamb from the waiter. “Why don’t more people go after what they think they want?”

  “I think people like having unobtainable dreams to fantasize about, to help their mind relax and escape. It’s easy. When you actually start to do the work to make something come alive, it can be unpleasant and ugly and difficult. Sometimes the dream turns out to be something you don’t like after all. And people are afraid to ruin the image with a reality that can never live up to it.”

  “Or maybe we get stuck. We obsess about something so long that it’s not even what we really want anymore, it’s just a placeholder for something we once wanted. And it got fossilized in our mind.”

  “Mind fossils. Could be the name of a band. Copyright that, Sofia.”

  She laughed. “Don’t you think that happens, though? You want something so long and so hard, and once you get it, you realize it’s not what you wanted after all.”

  “Yes, it does. But sometimes, hard as that can be, you find that you’re open, then. You have a huge empty space, just waiting to be filled with your true desires. If you’re bold enough to go after them. Trying something from a fantasy can be an extremely courageous thing to do.”

  She looked down. “But sometimes people can make mistakes, Max. Do things they shouldn’t, in order to make a dream come true.” She put down the fork and clenched her napkin. “I just—do you think the end justifies the means, at least sometimes?”

  He regarded her. “Sometimes. I think it depends on the situation and the person. Why, what did you do?” He laughed, but his eyes met hers, and a sizzle of something passed between them. It was like he could read her soul.

  Forcing a laugh, she picked up her glass of water. “Everyone does something in their life for the wrong reasons, at least once. I’m just—wondering what you think. About how far a person should bend their soul to try to fit into the shape of their dream.”

  “I think,” he said, “that if you have to bend that much, it’s the wrong dream. Or that you’re going about it the wrong way.” He raised an eyebrow and regarded her for a moment. “But I suppose everyone needs to figure that out on their own, for themselves. Yes?”

  She nodded, uncomfortable with where this might head. “How’s your salad?”

  “Worth every silver coin. Want a bite?” He pointed at the bowl. “I’m willing to sacrifice for you.”

  “Only if you take some cloned mutton.”

  He laughed. “Give me two identical pieces.”

  “We’ll trade, then. My dream for yours.” She passed him a fork.

  “I’ll take that deal.” He smiled at her.

  * * *

  “Yee!” The squeak was to her phone; the text was from Hunter. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?” Blake leaned in. “Is it a dick pic from a secret admirer? If so, you really better show me, because I’m totes an expert.”

  “Personal space much?” Casey pushed his shoulder. “Go away. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Greedy bitch.” Blake pouted but retreated to his desk, attacking his laptop with vigor, and Casey fell back into her chair, mesmerized.

  Sofia. I can’t wait to see you Friday.

  She could hear his voice, deep and sexy, imagine his strong lips.

  Me too.

  She hesitated, wanted to write more, but words couldn’t sum of the immensity of her emotions.

  “So did he write you a novel, or what?” Blake spun in his chair. “Can you read me a good part?”

  “Sometimes, Blake, less is more. This, for you, is one of those times.”

  “Mies van Der Rohe. Plagiarist.”

  “I’m footnoting, Blake. Please.” She bit back a smile, then texted Hunter.

  Can’t wait to see you again on Friday and have coffee for breakfast.

  His reply came quickly.

  Why wait? I can have my driver pick you up from your modeling studio this afternoon. Sofia means wisdom, I’ve read. I’m eager to help you improve your knowledge… in areas of my expertise.

  Her smile evaporated. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms, still holding the phone, and gazed out the window. The street was in a rush hour lull, but there were still some passersby. She watched them without noticing a si
ngle detail, trying to decide what to do or say. Finally she replied.

  I’m sorry. I can’t, today.

  He was going to think she was irrational. One minute begging to see him, the next denying his request. Fuck.

  His answer was short.

  I’m in town tonight, then I’ll be in New York until Friday. So, until then.

  She felt tears in her eyes as she responded.

  Until then.

  More than anything she wanted to have the driver pick her up and deliver her to the safe danger of Hunter’s arms, but the deception was making her stomach ache and her head hurt. She needed to be honest with him, with Max, too, with everyone—to stop this before it went beyond redemption, because she knew without a doubt that if they spent another night together with her as a fake, the truth would crush this fledgling relationship into dust. She needed to unbend her soul.

  Friday—she’d do it Friday. The next time she saw his face, she’d take him aside and tell him the truth and ask for his forgiveness.

  “Casey?” Blake’s voice held a question. “You okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She rubbed her eye and smiled. “Let’s get ready for our next client.”

  “Okay. But first, look what I brought.” Blake held out the plaid tie, and Casey snorted.

  “Oh, my God. You’re crazy. You better hide that from Le Dragone.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s just going to sit in my bag, like a talisman, a secret weapon. I can pull it out at a moment’s notice as necessary.” He waved the tie in the air as if sword-fighting, and the two of them dissolved into giggles. Blake whipped the tie behind him and sat on it quickly as their boss entered, but wiggled and said “ooooh” in an undertone as if the tie were having butt sex with him, and this was so funny that Casey choked on her own spit and felt her face turn red.