"I can't make a living at it," I told her. "I'm not good enough. I might get by, but I'd never be honestly successful. Most writers have full time jobs to pay the bills or someone supporting them."
"You have me."
"Untie me now."
"You have me."
"That's not a question."
She paused, caressed me for a second, I tried to pull away, but I couldn't, and really I didn't want to.
"Okay I'm going to rephrase. Skipping the money issue. Let's say you won the lottery tomorrow."
"Gotta play to win..."
"We're playing what if. What if you won the lottery? What would you do?"
"I'd write."
She stared at me for a long moment. "Are you mad at me?"
"No, Roni. But I hurt, please untie me."
"Are you going to run away, or will you please cuddle with me?"
"I'm going to curl up in a ball and ignore you, and you're going to caress me for a while, and pretty soon I'll move my head in your lap and tell you I love you. After that, you're going to tell me why you're weaseling out of the punishment session you deserve."
She started caressing me before removing the plug. It had been in too long and was uncomfortable to remove. She then slowly removed the other restraints.
"Thank you," I said once I was free. I then curled up into a ball on my side and ignored her for a while.
"Did I hurt you?" she asked me after a while.
I ignored her, although her caresses felt nice.
"Shane, I need to know. Did I go too far?"
"The ice was a six," I said. "If you'd put any inside me once more, it would have jumped to eight. That's why I freaked."
"After? Leaving you tied up?"
"The orgasm was a nine on the positive scale," I said.
I think she smirked, but I wasn't looking at her. Still, her voice changes when she's smirking, so I was pretty sure. "Just a nine?"
"Hello. Orgasms while uncomfortable are never going to make it to ten."
She kept caressing. "How about when I wouldn't untie you."
"I can't give that a number. That wasn't a game."
"It's all a game, Shane, or none of it is. I'm not sure which. It's part of who we are though, isn't it?"
That's when I rolled around and put my head in her lap. I hadn't completely forgiven her yet, but I knew I loved her.
"Don't do it too often," I told her. "I need to know I can trust you, and that pushed it. The only reason it wasn't over the edge is because you stopped the ice when I started to freak."
And then I wrapped my arms around her and cuddled in deeper.
"You deserve being punished for snooping."
"I know I do, Shane. I'm sorry, I can't let you. But I promise I'll never read one of your stories again without permission."
"I'm stronger than you. I could force you."
"Yes, you are. You could try. But I think you'd find it's harder to bind an unwilling victim than you think. But if you started to succeed, I would completely freak. I might not freak at a little wrestling around, but if I thought you could really tie me up, I would totally freak. Is that what you want?"
"Of course not, but you need to explain."
She stopped petting for a while, but I wriggled demandingly.
"Cheeky girl."
"You owe me. Keep petting. I still hurt, and the petting helps."
"Did I really hurt you? I'm sorry."
"Emotionally. I got really stiff, but that already wore off. Please keep petting me."
She started petting me again and I settled in.
"I've been tied up," she told me. "Only once."
"Who?"
"Penny."
"Penny?! You aren't serious. You and Penny?"
"It wasn't like that. Several of us had met for coffee. Penny and I were both bragging about recent conquests."
I stiffened, wondering how she may have bragged about me.
"I was younger. Stupid in some ways. It wasn't that many years ago, but that night with Penny completely changed me. I brag about how fabulous you are, but if anyone even hints at wanting details of our escapades, I shut them down."
I settled back down. She kept petting. I was starting to feel better. But Penny?
"Are you jealous?"
"No," I said. "You don't love her. You love me. That's enough for me."
"So Penny and I were bragging. Penny was still glowing from the previous night. You understand she's not just a domme, she also enjoys being cruel. And she'd been able to be especially cruel. She was talking about a four-hour session the night before, and how pleased she was about it. And I said, four hours? That's it?"
"Four hours is a long time, depending upon what's going on."
"I know that now. So Penny scoffed at me and said, You wouldn't last two in my dungeon."
"And you rose to the bait."
"Yeah. We made a wager. If I lasted the full two hours, then I got to redecorate her loft, and she had to leave it that way for six months. If she won, she got to take pictures of what she'd done to me and put them on her web site. None of my face, so no one could identify me by them, but she and everyone else at the table would know."
"So what did you do to her apartment?"
"She got to take her pictures."
"What?"
"She only took one, and it may have been the best photo of me taken in a long time. It was a profile with tears running down my cheek."
"She hurt you? I'll kill her!"
"No you will not," Veronica said. "She barely touched me. I let her tie me up. She's exceedingly good at it. I couldn't move an inch. And then she told me what she was going to do. When I realized I couldn't stop her, that I was completely helpless and she could do anything she wanted to me, I lost it. I completely lost it."
I hugged her.
"I think I surprised her. She immediately started to untie me, but I told her to get her photos first. So she took one, just one, then untied me and held me until I stopped crying. She never showed that photo to anyone. For a few years, when I thought I might be getting a little too arrogant, I'd dig out the copy she gave me and look at it for a while. It usually took care of the arrogance."
She was still stroking my hair. "So. I don't know why I freaked, but I know the thought of being even just a little helpless scares me worse than you can imagine."
I thought about it. "You still need to be punished for reading the story, Roni."
I began touching her and kissing her. "Shane, that's not exactly punishment," she told me shortly. "It seems a lot like encouragement to me."
"You don't get to talk," I told her, pulling my mouth away from her. "Or I'll bite."
I didn't think she'd want me biting her where my mouth was at the time. I didn't want to either, so I really hoped she didn't call my bluff. Kindly, she didn't.
It took a while, but I got her squirming really good. Then I reached to the bowl of ice, grabbed two cubes and quickly slipped them into her.
She started screeching, jumped off the bed, and hopped around until they fell onto the floor. She glared at me, but the glare turned into a grin.
It was late and I was tired, so I crawled under the covers and turned my back to her. "Remember to turn out the lights," I told her.
She puttered around the apartment for a few minutes before coming back to bed. When she tried to cuddle up to me, I told her, "Your punishment isn't over. You don't get to touch me until noon tomorrow."
She moved away slowly and rolled over. We lay like that for a few minutes. Then I rolled back.
"Why am I punishing myself?" I asked quietly, curling up around her.
She was lying there stiffly when I pulled her into my arms. My rejection had hurt her. She relaxed slightly as I curled around her.
"Roni?" I said quietly.
"What, Shane?" she said warily.
"I never knew it was possible to love someone as much as I love you," I told her.
Then she relaxed. "Me
either," she said.
Chapter 13: Time to Feed the Muse
I woke in the morning with Veronica lightly caressing me. It felt divine.
"Don't stop," I begged.
"I won't stop. Shane." She caressed me for a while, waiting until I was fully awake before speaking again. "Can I ask you more questions about your writing?"
"Of course," I told her.
"Tell me what it's like when you're writing. What you feel?"
"That's complicated. It depends on the story, and it depends on the muse. Sometimes I have an idea of a story someone else might like, so I try writing it. And it might end up being an okay story, but if I'm writing for someone else, some hypothetical reader, the writing is always a little forced. But if instead I have a story, and I'm basically telling it to myself, and not worrying about whatever anyone else thinks, then that's when it's amazing. The muse is happy, and the stories are the most magical."
Veronica leaned down and kissed me. After the kiss she said, "I want you to write more. I loved that story, and I want more."
I thought back to the last time someone had complimented my writing. "She told me she liked my stories, too."
"Who did?"
"She. You know."
"Oh." said Veronica. "Oh. Please, Shane, will you write more stories?"
"I would, Roni, but it's hard. I have to feed the muse, and she's very demanding. When will I have time?"
* * *
The week moved ahead. We went dancing again over the weekend. Sunday I told Veronica I needed some time to start dictating MPEGs for my fall classes. She said she had errands to run, anyway, so we both got some time alone.
Monday arrived, and it was another work week, or so I thought. The day started like it normally did, but at ten AM Veronica called me into her office. "Close the door," she told me.
I leered at her. "Do we finally get to test out the desk, Boss?"
She didn't smile. Shit, something was wrong. "Sit down, Shane."
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No, You've been great. You've far exceeded any expectation anyone could possibly have had for you."
"Did someone die?"
"No, of course not. Shane, just sit down."
I sat.
"Shane, I'm cutting your hours to zero."
"What?" I thought about it. "You're firing me? I thought I was doing a good job. I thought you were able to bill more hours because I did all the grunt work you can't bill."
"You were doing a good job, and I can bill more hours with you doing the things you do. This isn't a business decision. As a business woman, I'm kicking myself over and over."
"Then why? Too much together time? I thought we were doing really well that way, too."
"We are, and I hope you won't be too mad at me for this."
"I don't understand." I was trying not to cry.
"Shane, I want you to have time to write."
"Oh hell, Veronica, is that what this is about? We've talked about this. I have financial obligations."
Veronica slid an envelope across the desk to me. "Read it."
I opened the envelope. It was the most glowing job recommendation I could imagine.
"Even if we break up, you have that. You'll always have that, and every word is true."
"I don't want this. I like working for you. For you! Don't you understand? I like taking care of you the way you take care of me."
She looked away and I realized this was hurting her, too.
"Shane, I will make you a promise. I want you to write. You want to write. God wants you to write. Do you think maybe you should perhaps spend some time writing?"
By now I was near tears, but not quite crying. I shrugged petulantly.
"So I will make a promise. Spend the rest of the summer writing. Spend your breaks writing. I'll take you places, too. Well, I'd take you places anyway, but I meant you won't spend all your time writing. Shit, I'm saying this badly."
She collected her breath and tried again. "Write. The rest of this summer. Breaks. Next summer. Take business classes at school, but also take writing classes. Take both, your schedule certainly can allow for both. And take philosophy and sociology, too, because those will help for both writing and business. Then, the summer between junior and senior year, if you want to work here instead of write, I will happily hire you and give you all the hours you want."
I thought about what she was saying.
"You've seen what my job is like, and you'll continue to see what it's like. And I'm not firing you, I'm keeping you on the payroll, and there may be times I'm going to ask you to work when we really need you, because you're really good and there will be times I'd really like your help. You don't need more time on the job here to see what business here is like. You understand it, and that was the main goal for this job, to expose you. You've been exposed. Now, go see if you like writing when you're pursuing it full time for the next two months."
I sat in the chair for several minutes, not saying anything. She let me mull it through.
"You're treating me like a child," I told her. "You're trying to make my decisions for me, just like Mom and Dad did."
She didn't look at me but said in a small voice. "I know."
"Don't I get a vote?"
She'd been turned away, but when she turned back, there was a tear sliding down her cheek. I stared at it.
"I'm mad at you."
"I know," she said. "I don't blame you."
"I'm going to be mad at you for a while. I don't know how long."
"I know."
"I'm not moving out. I know you're worried I might. I'm not."
A second tear joined the first.
"I might move into the spare room for a few days. Or a few weeks. I don't know yet."
"I understand."
"I won't stay mad forever, and I'm not moving out. However, you will keep your hands off of me until I'm ready for you to touch me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Shane."
I quietly collected my things then stepped back into her office.
"That damned well better have been a real tear," I told her. I walked out of the office without another word to anyone. I went to the apartment and slammed the door as loudly as I could, hoping she could hear it.
I stormed around the apartment for a while. Then I opened Veronica's wine cabinet and went searching for the most expensive bottle of red I could find. I was being petulant, and I knew it, but I didn't care. I opened the bottle, poured a single glass, then recorked the bottle and left it sitting on the table where she'd see it when she came home. I took the glass of wine, my laptop and my headset to the spare bedroom. I closed and locked the door, threw all the pillows on the floor, then sat down amongst them, opened my laptop and began writing.
Veronica stopped into the apartment to check on me. I had the music playing loudly, so I didn't hear her at first, but she knocked on the door and called my name. I ignored her and she eventually went away.
I waited until she left. My wine was empty. I'd nursed it for a couple of hours, but you can only sip so slowly. I got up, grabbed my wine glass, and went in search of the wine bottle.
It wasn't on the dining room table anymore. "That bitch!" I said. I went to the cabinet and grabbed another bottle then into the kitchen to open it. The bottle I had opened earlier was sitting prominently on the kitchen counter. There was a note under it that said, "Use your own judgment. I hope you won't get drunk. But if you want more than what's in this bottle, please share the next bottle with me."
"Okay maybe not a bitch," I said. I put the unopened bottle back in the wine cabinet, then poured myself another glass from the first bottle. I grabbed a large glass of water as well and headed back to the spare bedroom.
She came to check on me again. This time she wouldn't go away. "Shane, please. I just need to know you're okay. Then I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."
That pissed me off.
I stormed to the door, unlocked and opened it, a
nd then said, "I fucking keep my promises, and I find it very insulting that you don't trust me." I slammed the door in her face and locked it.
I went back to my writing. She wanted me to write, I would fucking write.
I never say fucking. I sighed.
Later I left the room to return my wine glass to the kitchen. I didn't want a third glass, but I had to use the bathroom. There was a piece of paper waiting on the floor in front of me when I opened the door.
"You're right. I'm sorry. I love you. Veronica."
I stared at it for a while, then carried it with me and read it again while I went to the bathroom. When I went back to the guest room, I closed the door, but I didn't lock it.
Veronica came home about six. My story was almost done. It took another half hour for edits. I read it through once more then sent it to print on one of the office printers next door. There was no printer in the apartment.
I opened the door. Veronica was sitting at the dining room table, still looking a little shell shocked and afraid of what I might do. "Shut up," I told her. "Not one word."
I walked up to her. "I wrote a story. It is printing at the office. I am going to get it. You are going to read it. You will read every last word before you make any response what so ever. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Shane," she said. "I'm sorry."
"Save it," I told her.
I walked out, down the hall, then used my key to gain access to the office. I retrieved my story from the printer, locked up and returned to the apartment. I handed it to Veronica then headed back to the guest bedroom and slammed the door.
I picked up all the pillows and put them back on the bed, straightening up the room. Then I sat on the bed and waited.
Intermission: Shane's Story
I hate her.
I hate her.
I hate the way she always thinks she's so superior, so smart.
I hate her.
I hate her beautiful blond hair.
I hate her.
I hate her.
I hate how she worries about me.
I hate her.
I hate her piercing blue eyes, the way they look at me like they're looking into my soul.
Rewind Page 26