Pucked Up Love

by Lili Valente

  *

  Sabrina: I love you. You’re a cute old lady.

  *

  Hailey: I love you, too. And you’re a brat. Go back to sleep, I’ll talk to you later.

  *

  Sabrina: No, I’m up now. Pondering your question has banished sleep. So…yes, it is weird sometimes. I look around and see how much things have changed and have a hard time believing this is my life. But it’s also right. I’m so much happier. So, weird and right is my answer.

  *

  Hailey: So you think the two can coexist?

  *

  Sabrina: Absolutely. But now I’m curious to know what inspired your line of questioning? Are things with Will finally getting weird?

  *

  Hailey: No comment.

  *

  Sabrina: Ewwww!! They are getting weird, aren’t they! I mean, you’re three weeks into your lessons now, right? It’s about time things started getting super-duper kinky winky. So what tripped your freak-out reflex?

  *

  Hailey: I said no comment.

  *

  Sabrina: Did he tie you up? Try to pee on you in a sexual way? Make you dress up in a naughty school girl outfit and pretend he was going to get you pregnant before graduation?

  *

  Hailey: I’m not going to touch any of that except to say your reading habits worry me sometimes and that pee is for the toilet.

  *

  Sabrina: Well I know that. But I’m not a Big Bad Dirty Dom.

  I have to confess it’s hard to imagine Will being mean to someone, even in a pretend way. He’s such a sweetheart.

  *

  Hailey: He’s not mean. He’s…wonderful. So incredibly wonderful.

  *

  Sabrina: Aw, you’re falling in love with Will again!

  *

  Hailey: I never fell out of love with him, Bree.

  Love was never the problem.

  Other stuff was the problem.

  But now I’m pretty sure I’m into the other stuff, too, but it’s still so new that sometimes I get freaked out and wonder what the heck I’m doing. I mean, yes, I’m having a blast and the best sex of my life, but…

  Well, there’s a part of me that still feels like I’m trying on a pricey pair of sky-high heels or something. I like the look of them, but I’m not sure if I want to plunk down three hundred bucks and take them home, where I’ll be obligated to wear them at least twice a week to justify paying that much for them.

  I don’t know if power exchange is something I’m ready to commit to forever, you know?

  *

  Sabrina: Then don’t do it forever. Have fun with it as long as it’s fun, and when it stops being fun, tell Will you want to take a break.

  *

  Hailey: But that’s not fair to him. I can’t promise to make this part of our relationship going forward and then back out. I need to know for sure if I’m ready to sign on the submissive dotted line.

  But it’s just still so new and…I feel new, too.

  *

  Sabrina: How so?

  *

  Hailey: I don’t know. It’s like questioning one part of my life opened the door for all these other questions. I’m second-guessing things I’ve taken for granted for years and wondering who I really am. If my opinions can change so drastically on so many things, am I even the same person I was before? Or someone completely different?

  *

  Sabrina: Wow. That makes my head hurt.

  *

  Hailey: Tell me about it. I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis.

  *

  Sabrina: Lol. You are not. You’re just going through a growing spurt. It’s good for you. We’re supposed to keep growing, you know. You don’t reach adulthood and suddenly have everything all figured out forever.

  *

  Hailey: I know.

  I just never expected this to hit me so hard.

  Everything feels different except the way I feel about Will. And that feels like…coming home.

  Like coming home after months lost at sea. He’s that first glimpse of land.

  *

  Sabrina: The first bite of chocolate cake after dieting for three months so your abs will show on the cover of the swimsuit issue.

  *

  Hailey: I can’t imagine going without cake for that long, but yes, I bet it’s just like that. So good it almost makes me want to cry. I’m just so happy and relieved and grateful to have him in my life again.

  *

  Sabrina: Aw, you’re going to make me cry! That’s so sweet!

  *

  Hailey: Seriously, I don’t know how much longer I can wait to tell him that I want to be with him again. I want to be Us again. Surely, even if the weird feeling sticks around for a while—even forever—it will be worth it to know I’m never going to have to live without him again. Right?

  *

  Sabrina: Okay, now hold up a second. It would be worth pretending for the rest of your life to be something you’re not? Really?

  *

  Hailey: I don’t know! I just miss him so much, Bree.

  I miss being happy without having to try so hard.

  When Will and I were broken up, it felt like I spent half my life fighting off the blues, boosting myself up with exercise or meditation or forced fun outings to go see sketch comedy or take in the new exhibit at the museum. Not being miserable had become so much fucking work.

  But when I’m with Will, I just…float.

  *

  Sabrina: So float, woman. Enjoy yourself and give the new stuff some time. You two will figure it out. There’s no need to rush. Just go with the flow and try not to overthink everything the way you always do. Some things can’t be sorted out with your head, Hailey Rae. Some things have to be understood with your heart. And yet still others must be soaked up via your vagina.

  *

  Hailey: That’s sweet, smart, and gross all at the same time.

  *

  Sabrina: You’re welcome. I’m going back to sleep now. I’m going to try to make your two-thirty class, but if I’m not there, don’t worry. I’m considering staying in my pajamas all day, playing records, and catching up on my smut reading. I’ve been buried in Man’s Search for Meaning for a week, and I could use a break from wanting to cry because I’m so simultaneously inspired and filled with empathy.

  *

  Hailey: You’re going to be a good therapist.

  *

  Sabrina: If I can keep from crying all the time.

  Speaking of crying, Creedence called me again last night.

  *

  Hailey: Wow. And he was crying?

  *

  Sabrina: No, I just wanted to talk about my love life for a change, and that seemed like an easy transition. He wasn’t crying, but he was bummed that I’m sticking to my “just friends” policy. He wants another real date, and I’m inclined to give him one.

  *

  Hailey: What about the STD factor? I mean, that’s a deal breaker, isn’t it?

  *

  Sabrina: The STD has not been confirmed. It’s hearsay at this point. And he’s just so sexy, Hailey. Demanding and intense and poetically obsessed with me in the cute way, not the creepy way. I mean, we ended up talking on the phone for nearly an hour last night, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t done that since junior high. So…

  *

  Hailey: So you’re going to see him again.

  *

  Sabrina: I am. I know Will said he was bad news, but he may have gotten flawed information. Our mutual friend Shane is a great guy, but he’s got a little thing for me, I think.

  *

  Hailey: Shane Wallace?! Oh, he’s so cute, Bree! And such a sweetheart.

  You should totally go out with him! You would have so much fun together!

  He’s got a great sense of humor.

  *

  Sabrina: Yeah, I know, Hailey, I’ve been friends with him for a long time. But he’s a total jock, and I’m not a jock gi
rl. I’m into artistic, intellectual guys. Guys who write music or poetry or read Rilke in German.

  *

  Hailey: Pale posers who wear a lot of black, have dark circles under their eyes, and look skinnier in skinny jeans than I do?

  *

  Sabrina: *dreamy sigh* Yes. Like vampires, but with dirty hair.

  *

  Hailey: Well…whatever floats your boat, I guess.

  *

  Sabrina: Thatta girl. Go with the flow, be open to alternative ways of looking at the world, and you’ll get through this new adventure with Will just fine.

  *

  Hailey: Just don’t come crying to me when your bed is full of hipster crabs.

  *

  Sabrina: Lies. Those are dirty lies.

  *

  Hailey: And make sure he wraps it up. Twice. Just in case he’s collected anything grosser than pubic parasites in his sexual travels.

  *

  Sabrina: La la la…not listening, there is no hateration in this dancery, sister.

  *

  Hailey: Fine, crazy. Just be safe. And get your butt to class today so I can give you a hug. I miss your face.

  *

  Sabrina: Will do. All the hugs.

  *

  Hailey: All the hugs.

  Chapter 17

  Hailey

  After the intensity of the weekend with Will—and of the past three weeks in general—this particular Monday seems to crawl like a snail crossing a salt plain against a seventy-degree headwind.

  I’m still a lean, mean, focused machine, but I struggle to take proper form as seriously as usual and keep letting my students’ little mistakes slide instead of forcing them to go back to the beginning of an exercise and take it at half speed until they get the sequence just right.

  I’ve been teaching self-defense for years—all levels, from beginning to advanced—and no matter how many times I have to repeat the rules for engagement, I’ve never been bored a day at my job. Empowering women by teaching them how to protect themselves and the people they love is my passion, and passion doesn’t get old.

  Or so I’d thought…

  But today I’m so laid back that my beginner girls end up climbing the ropes at the back of the gym and cackling like hyenas, and my teacher trainee class makes a motion to adjourn for coffee forty-five minutes into our sparring because they insist we could all use a double espresso before our afternoon sessions.

  And though I am tired—I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight last night—that’s not why I’m half checked out. Will is the reason I’m suddenly wondering if I want to continue to teach full time or go back to school to get my master’s in physical therapy.

  Will and these damned, chaos-inducing submissive lessons…

  If I weren’t having so much fun, I would hate what they’ve done to my life.

  But how can you hate something that results in multiple orgasms every single night?

  “It’s just not possible.” I tug the ponytail holder from my hair and dig my fingers into my tight scalp. “But if you bring your B game tomorrow, you’re not going to make a very good first impression on the pre-teens of Portland.”

  It’s true. And I know better than to think the pre-teens will have mercy on me. Pre-teens have no mercy, which means it’s time to woman up and make an adult decision, no matter how much I’m looking forward to seeing Will tonight.

  As soon as I lock up the gym for the day, I tug my cell from my purse with a heavy heart and shoot him a text—I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to beg off for tonight. My energy levels are low, and I need to be on top of my game tomorrow for my first school visits. Which means going home and going to bed early—and alone—tonight. Forgive me?

  After only a few moments, Will responds—Of course. No forgiveness required, baby. I get it. Though, I will miss you.

  Sighing, I lean back against the sun-warmed bricks of the building as I type. Me, too. I’ve been thinking about you all day.

  Good. Then I did my job last night.

  I grin. Yes, you did, sir. But just FYI, I’m totally ready to try the paddle next time I’m naughty. I’m dying to know what it feels like. I bite my lip, debating the wisdom of saying more, but find myself unable to stop my thumbs from confessing, I’ve been daydreaming about that all day, too. About what it will be like the first time. About whether I’ll be bent over with my hands on the table or if you’ll pull me across your lap or if I’ll be tied to the headboard when the spanking starts…

  He sends over a sweating, panicked-looking emoji that makes me laugh. Jesus, woman. You and your imagination are going to make me gray before my time. Or give me a hard-on that’s not even a little bit locker room friendly.

  Oops, sorry, I write back. Forgot you were at practice.

  Sure you did. This time he sends a devil emoji, making me feel oddly proud of myself. Go home and get some sleep, Curious. We’ll get back on track with our lesson plan on Thursday. I’ve got a late practice tonight and a publicity event tomorrow and then an away game on Wednesday.

  Disappointment flashes through my chest, and my lips turn down hard at the edges. Sadness consumes me. Thursday is forever away. We’ll be almost in week four by then.

  Sadness consumes me, too, he replies, but we still have two whole weeks left. And because I’m such an accommodating teacher, I’m willing to extend our sessions to a nine-week course, if needed, so we can complete the entire expanded curriculum at our leisure. I don’t want to rush. I like taking my time with you.

  My heart melts, and my lips reverse their downward trajectory. “I like that, too,” I murmur aloud. “I love it. And I love you. So much.”

  I want to say all of those things to Will—all of them and more—but instead I type out, Ditto, baby. Thanks for being the best Discreet Gentleman ever.

  We’re both still on uncertain ground. I know he loves me, too, and that we both want this to work for the long haul, but the fact remains that it might not. We might hit a brick wall during one of our final lessons and end up saying goodbye for good. And that will be less painful for both of us if we can keep the focus on our teacher/student relationship instead of our more complicated exes-who-don’t-want-to-be-exes-anymore relationship.

  It’s my pleasure. Truly, Will responds after a moment. I’ll touch base with you Thursday morning, gorgeous. Be good while I’m gone. Or…

  Or what? I tap out, not ready to say goodbye. Thursday feels like it’s eons away, and I can’t help wishing that things were back the way they used to be between Will and me.

  If they were, during our time apart I could look forward to texts, video chats, and epic phone calls that last until well after midnight. Will and I always joked that we had some of our best conversations when there were hundreds of miles between us.

  I’m staring at my phone, waiting for Will’s next text when it starts to ring and Will’s picture—a shot of him on the beach from our first vacation together years ago—appears on the screen.

  I answer with a smile. “Or what? Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Or you could come with me,” he says, his voice pure temptation. “You could get Jill to cover your Wednesday afternoon class, and we can catch an early flight back from Vancouver on Thursday. Or you could get Jill to cover everything for the rest of the week, and we could stay in Vancouver for a few days, go shopping at Granville Island, wander around Stanley Park, make another trip across that suspension bridge that scares the hell out of you.”

  “You like scaring the hell out of me?” I ask, my blood fizzy in my veins.

  “No, I like how tight you held onto me the first time we crossed that bridge. I want a repeat.”

  “I like holding on tight to you,” I murmur, longing rising inside me. “But I shouldn’t miss work. The new session just started a month ago.”

  “Yes, but most of the students aren’t new, and you’ve been busting your ass non-stop for eleven months without a break. That’s probably why you were tire
d today. You need a mental health day, some R and R.”

  I hum doubtfully even as my smile widens. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure the reason I was tired was that a very demanding man kept me kneeling on the bathroom floor until almost one in the morning.”

  “You looked so pretty there, I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been thinking about that all day, baby, the way you looked in those tiny red panties and nothing else, with your nipples swollen from my kisses.”

  The arousal inspired by his words is so intense and immediate that I have no choice but to lean more of my weight against the wall. I couldn’t stand up straight right now if I tried. “Don’t,” I whisper. “Or you’re going to have me on my knees again outside the gym. You know the dirty talk makes me crazy.”

  “That wasn’t dirty talk, baby,” he says. “Dirty talk would be ordering you to make your pussy wet for me right now. So why don’t you do that for me? Go back into the gym, lock the door, go into your office, and take off your clothes. Play with your nipples until I call you back, and then I’ll tell you what I want you to do next.”

  My lips part on a reply, but before I can speak, a soft beep-beep sounds in my ear, indicating that he’s ended the call.

  I huff in frustration, my cheeks hot and my pussy even hotter. A part of me is dying to do exactly what Will ordered me to do in that Deep Dom voice of his, but I wasn’t joking about needing the night off. I need to get home, make a healthy dinner, and get some rest so I’ll be in top form tomorrow. I don’t need to spend another half hour or more at the gym or get sucked into playing a game I didn’t agree to play.

  This is the perfect chance for me to put this new aspect of our relationship to the test, to use that safe word I’ve been keeping in my back pocket for the day when things eventually get too intense for my personal comfort.

  But this isn’t too intense; it’s simply an overreach.

  Do I still use the safe word for that?

  Frowning, I start to text Will, but before I can finish, a text from him pops through—Hey, babe. I’m sorry. I got carried away. As soon as I hung up, I realized I shouldn’t have taken things that far. You texted to say you needed rest, and it’s my job to respect your boundaries. Not only to respect them, but to enforce them for you in the event a scene leaves you too wiped out to manage by yourself. I slipped. Forgive me?