Once again I introduced a topic we had discussed several times over the past few weeks. “Janice told me a while ago that you don’t use safe words.”
“We’ve been through this, Jane. I haven’t, so far, but you and I need to start from the beginning, just as Luke should have done with you from the get-go. We need it for the contract … which you will ultimately sign.” He fixed me with a penetrating stare that was meant to compel me into submission.
Dancing my part of the repeat performance, I said, “I will consider signing when you show me that you understand the concept of negotiation and compromise.”
“I’ve already removed the part about having control over when you eat. That’s a huge compromise.”
“We have a difference of opinion on that. As you certainly know by now, I would prefer not to have any contract between us.”
Marcello rose from the couch and walked over to the bar to pour a scotch. “Our type of relationship must have rules and boundaries and clearly defined expectations. You need to know what to expect from me and what I require of you.”
“I’m having a déjà vu, Marcello. I’m not ready for what you want from me.” Confronting him directly, I added, “Why does our relationship have to be like the one you already have with Janice? You can take her to your S and M parties. She’s accustomed to that.”
“It’s time for you to let go of what happened with Luke,” he said. “I think it would be the best choice for you to get a divorce and move on. My offer still stands. My attorney is at your disposal.”
“I don’t want a divorce and I have been very clear with you about that. I don’t intend to marry again so there is no point.”
“A divorce is symbolic of your willingness to move on from that relationship. Then we could really start our life together.”
“What is wrong with what we have now?”
“You know the answer to that question, Jane.” He was starting to raise his voice as he approached where I sat. “How many times have we been over this?”
“Let’s finish this tango later, shall we?” I said, rising to my feet and hurrying toward my room. “I need to get my run in.”
“Ciao,” he said.
“Goodbye,” I said with a conciliatory wave.
Frustration was clearly etched on Marcello’s face.
* * * *
Blakely Bennett grew up in Southeast Florida and has been residing in the great Northwest for over seven years. She graduated from Nova Southeastern University with a degree in psychology, which accounts for her particular interest in crafting the personalities, struggles, and motivations of her characters. She is an avid reader of many genres of fiction, but especially erotica and romance. Writing has always been her bliss. She is attracted to stories of self-struggle and ultimate recovery.
Blakely is married to a wonderful, loving and supportive husband, also a writer, who helps to keep her grounded. She is a mother, a communitarian, a lover of music (always on while she is writing—thank you, Pandora), and a good friend. An advocate of love and female empowerment, she is a facilitator for a women’s group. She loves to walk and hike for exercise and finds that, since moving to Seattle, WA, she is now one of those “crazy” people who walk in the rain.
You can find Blakely on the Web at:
BlakelyBennett.fannypress.com.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER ONE
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER ONE
My Body-His Marcello Page 24