Worth The Wait: A Nature Of Desire Series Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  “He’s still charmingly thrilled every time someone gushes over his art, which is why he does so well at the parties, despite hating the attention.” Marcus didn’t bother to conceal his tender fondness for his spouse. “He’s like the kid watching the adult Christmas party, hiding in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He wants to listen to what people are saying about his pieces without having to be in the midst of the social scene.”

  “Well, he’s a shy farm boy and always will be.” Julie used the term with affection, since Marcus often called Thomas ‘farm boy.’

  “True. Every morning he marks the calendar with a big red X, one day closer to heading back to his little rustic corner of the world.”

  “I can’t wait for that myself. When?”

  “Not long. Linda will handle my gallery like she normally does, because I’ve promised Thomas we can stay in North Carolina several weeks. I can always take a quick flight back up for a day or so if I have to. He needs some uninterrupted time to work on new material. He does fine here, but his best stuff happens when he’s surrounded by farm animals and his mother. Which might be an unnecessary distinction.”

  “Ooh, I’m going to tell Elaine you said that. She’ll whack you with one of her wooden spoons.”

  “It’s our form of familial affection. How long do I have to make idle conversation before you tell me what’s up?”

  “You can feel the vibes?”

  “Like a New York symphony overture. Not that I don’t enjoy our casual banter immensely, but you called for a reason. Tell me.”

  “I met someone. I think he’s…different. I wasn’t going to ever get involved with anyone again. You know that, I told you that.”

  “A decision I knew was misguided, but I held my tongue because I’m a good friend who waits for the right moment to say ‘neener, neener, neener, I told you so.’”

  “Something I really appreciate about you.” She paused. “He’s different, Marcus. Terrifying, brilliant, special. I’m scared, because I’m so gone over him, so fast.”

  “How is he different?” His voice had sharpened, reminding her Marcus had a very protective side when it came to those he considered his family.

  “He’s…well, he’s a Dom. A rigger. He does rope. He’s going to be performing in our opener. I hope you guys can come to at least one of the four shows.”

  “Hmm.” Marcus didn’t say anything for a second, making her wonder what he was thinking about Des. His next question told her he was mulling. “That’s a short run, isn’t it?”

  “We’re on a limited budget right now, and it’s not really that kind of show. But if it does well with the audience and in reviews, the buzz should improve demand for longer running productions.”

  “Good marketing move. So he’s a Dom and a rigger. Does he know what he’s doing? Who do you have to vouch for him?”

  “Logan. He almost didn’t need the references. When I’m with him, I get a really safe feeling. But he’s also cruel in the right ways, if that makes sense. Cruel might not be the best word. Ruthless?”

  “That edge you crave without it cutting you to pieces. You’ve been down that road before, looking for it with the wrong guys. Not your fault,” Marcus added, drawing out the sting. “The world’s full of assholes and you have the biggest heart of any one I know, except Thomas.”

  She stayed silent a few beats. “Marcus, will you and Thomas meet him?”

  “Try to keep us from it, baby.”

  Love flooded her. “I really do adore you guys.”

  “Oh sure, you just say that because we once gave you the best orgasm of your life and made you pancakes.”

  “It’s no longer the orgasm against which I measure all others. And he just took me out for pancakes.” She examined her nails, in the mood to be playful. Marcus didn’t disappoint.

  “Oh, really?” he drawled. “Lucky for you, we won’t consider it a competition.”

  “Would you if I asked? I’m happy to be a test subject. First Des could try, then you guys could try. We could do a six out of a ten thing. Okay, maybe three out of five. Six times at once might kill me, but what a marvelous way to expire.”

  “You twisted, sick woman. So this guy is into sharing?”

  She sobered, remembering the questions she’d intended but hadn’t really wanted to ask. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  “You’re not a polyamory type of girl,” Marcus said.

  “Does that make me old-fashioned? Stupid?”

  “I would remove the left lung of any man who made a move on Thomas,” Marcus said without a change of inflection. “And twist his nuts off. Does that answer your question?”

  Julie sighed. “Des is really good at the rigging stuff. He’s considered an artist in the BDSM community here, and so he’s popular with subs who want to experience it under his hands. Who am I to argue? Hell, I’ve been there and it’s out of this world.”

  She rocked back and forth on the edge of the stage. “He says he’s not going to have sex with any of them while he’s with me, and I’m glad for that, but I know the whole thing is sexual in nature. So will I get more comfortable with that as I go along, or am I just not wired this way and it’s doomed before we start? He kissed me and told me he doesn’t kiss them that way. I’m not sure if I’m okay with him kissing them any kind of way. And didn’t I say I wasn’t going to do a relationship again? I just freaking met this guy.”

  “Stop. You’re panicking yourself and doing your run-on, redundant babbling thing.”

  “Oh, this is amateur stuff. I did a filibuster on him at his job site earlier today.”

  “He didn’t cut and run?”

  “No. He took me out for pancakes. Christ, I don’t know why any guy hangs around me.”

  “Hey.” The sharpness of Marcus’s tone reminded her of Des, so much so that her stomach did that quick pretzel knot cinch of sexual awareness. “We’ve talked about this. You are a fucking amazing woman. You don’t let some asshole who can’t figure that out drag you down.”

  “I know. I know.” She drew herself up, made herself believe it. Hadn’t she just castigated herself for letting the poor opinions of others tear her down? The joy of dysfunction: no memory retention. “I’m nice, and fun, and interesting, and I just want someone to love me for me. And it feels like…this guy might be able to do that, Marcus. I’m fucking scared to death. I got used to handling rejection and failure. It became familiar ground. Talk about being twisted. And this has all happened in a blink. I care about him. I want to be in love with this guy.”

  “Easy.” Marcus’s tone gentled, picking up on the break in hers. “There was more to this conversation, wasn’t there?”

  “Yeah. A lot of stuff I haven’t processed yet. I think focusing on this is the easier part, to tell the truth. So can we stick with it for the time being?”

  “All right.” She heard a noise and a click and realized he’d switched from his hands free to the phone so she’d have his full attention. “So, say you and this guy keep on this road together. Would he stop doing sessions with other subs to keep you?”

  “I couldn’t ask him to do that. He is really good at this. I saw video. Even when I was six years old and had cartilage like a rubber band, I couldn’t bend the ways he ties some of these women. I think as long as I can keep it separate in my head like any other stage production, I can manage my feelings about it.”

  She wished they could video chat. She imagined Marcus in his New York penthouse, putting together a salad for dinner while Thomas finished something in their home studio. If they did video chat, he’d have the hands free tucked in his ear so he could toss the salad with his fine-boned hands, wield the chopping knife, and caress the supple skin of a beefsteak tomato. Watching Marcus do anything was a feast for female senses. She’d observed him from a corner at his gallery, directing his assistant manager with silent signals as he spoke on the phone or tapped on his laptop. Unlike most men, he was an impressive multi-tasker.

  “Bu
t you’ll talk to him if it becomes a problem.”

  “Maybe. I don’t want to change who he is just because I’m insecure and have had a couple of boyfriends who thought monogamy was a high school virus.”

  “It’s good to know your triggers,” Marcus said evenly. “But no matter who or what he is, you do what’s best for your physical and emotional wellbeing. If you don’t, I’ll kick your ass, and so will Thomas. The same thing you’d do for us—and have done for us—when we were trying to figure out how to make our relationship work.”

  She laid back on the stage to stare up at the ceiling. They’d had no leaks since Des had patched the roof. “I’m being a dumbass about this, I know. Oh, Marcus, what have I done? He makes me feel so incredible, so special and wonderful. When I see him, I ache inside. I said I wasn’t going to do this to myself again.”

  “And as I said, we indulged your delusion. You want to be in love, Julie. You have so much love to give. Don’t deny yourself that opportunity just because the road has dead ended so many times.”

  “I don’t think I can handle another selfish jerk.”

  “All of us can be selfish jerks. It’s the human condition. The question is whether it’s his predominant super power or a balanced part of a whole pool of traits that makes you want to dive right in.” He paused and murmured something.

  “What?”

  “Thomas just emerged from his studio and called me Superman. I was obliged to flip him the bird and threaten his life.”

  Julie smirked, but her mind was still caught up in the conversation. “I think I’m already in the water, close to being over my head.”

  “You have friends who can pull you out if needed.” Marcus’s voice was a stroking reassurance. “Julie, we love you. We both hope this is your guy, the one you’ve deserved for so long. Don’t be looking for ways to shoot him down arbitrarily. How you talk about him is new for you, and I’m going to take that as a good sign. Here. I’m going to hand you over to Thomas so he can do that nurturing crap he’s so good at.”

  “You’re actually not so bad at it yourself, no matter the hard-ass routine.”

  “I am a hard-ass. Just ask anyone. If this guy doesn’t treat you right, he’ll find out first hand.”

  Hard work gave the subconscious mind a chance to work out the tangles of life’s more complicated issues. Over the next few days, the end run toward opening night took up most of her waking hours. She and Harris were neck deep in production details, while at the other end of the burning candle she and Madison pursued the endless ways to market the event.

  Promoting a BDSM erotic event in the mainstream community was a delicate tap dance, but with Madison’s passion for her theater’s mission and Julie’s marketing savvy, their efforts started to bear fruit. Ticket sales that had started initially as a harrowing trickle became a solid flow when they stepped up the social media campaign and secured radio and TV spots. Madison’s loyal customer base, Logan’s wide network of BDSM club members and the students helping with the production proved invaluable at spreading the word.

  On the production side, there were run-throughs to review scenery, light and sound cues. The cast run-throughs were different from formal rehearsals, much heavier on the technical end and blocking than on running lines, because this first offering was intended to be a glimpse through the looking glass at the BDSM world. The show was billed as unscripted, organic, unfolding on stage according to the direction of Dom to sub, which helped increase buzz about it.

  Avant-garde theater typically didn’t command large audiences, the players doing it more for love of the medium than an expectation of big ticket sales. However, Wonder was offering an inside glimpse at a world that fascinated the mainstream. When they’d sold two hundred and fifty of their four hundred ticket capacity, Madison was ecstatic.

  Julie was happy, because she could turn her attention back toward the production itself. She and Harris focused on improving the stage elements for each performer so their presentation would be even more dramatic, without messing with the integrity of the scene itself. She also made sure each of the initial run-throughs or any significant changes were reviewed by Des, Logan or whatever expert they recommended to double check safety matters. All the stage hands and cast members were required to sit in on a comprehensive safety discussion with her, Logan and Des.

  “We’re all responsible for the safety of our performers,” Logan told them. “A Dom can get stage fright like anyone else and miss details he or she wouldn’t normally. So if we all watch out for one another, we have a good show on every level.”

  “It's fun, it's play, it’s intense in all the right ways,” Des had added. “And it only stays that way if we watch out for one another every fucking minute.”

  Julie had concluded the talk with a reminder. “During the show, if there’s anything that worries you about what’s happening on, behind or around stage, you bring it to Harris’s or my attention immediately. We want this to be a resounding success, but we won’t hesitate to stop a scene right in the middle if someone is at risk. We want people to learn about the beauty and reality of BDSM, and keeping people safe is a very real, true part of it.”

  Des had been sitting in the back during her little speech, but when she’d said that, her eyes had shifted to him, held. His lips curved and he gave her a slight nod. Knowing his concerns about “performing” BDSM scenes, she was bolstered by his approval.

  She had met Missive and spoken with her a few times as part of the show prep. She was everything Des had said she was. Slim, blonde, young and beautiful. She was also pleasant and smart, so helpful and service-oriented that Harris had suggested they lure her back as crew for future productions.

  Desmond had told her a lot about Missive. She had no permanent attachments in the scene, and possessed an adventurous submissive nature that enjoyed a wide variety of experiences. Yes, she and Des had done quite a few rope scenes together, but she’d also volunteered as Logan’s sub for his whip instruction classes at his club. At least three other Masters and Mistresses in the cast had had the pleasure of doing scenes with her for violet wands, fire and role play.

  Outside the scene, she was an engineering student with a busy lifestyle. Des suspected she might have a vanilla relationship in that world, but Missive preferred to keep that part of her life private.

  Knowing all of that should have made it easier for Julie, and spending some one-on-one time with Des did help. As promised, he’d taken Julie on a two low-pressure, no-sex dates in the little spare time she’d had. The first had been dinner at Mac’s Speed Shop, a popular pseudo-biker and BBQ hang out that had to-die-for mac-and-cheese and brisket. They’d listened to a great live band, Des’s arm stretched over the back of the booth behind her, her leaning into his side, tapping her fingers to the music on his thigh. The noise made conversation a lips right against the ear requirement, and they kept one another laughing with the conversations they shared, and half aroused from their close proximity.

  She was a hypocrite, because the casual, safe atmosphere unleashed her inner tease. She’d pressed up against him when she spoke in his ear, and he acknowledged it with a snug arm around her waist, fingers sliding intimately into the back pocket of her jeans. Light kisses exchanged became deeper, more lingering, his eyes heating on her face when they broke apart, but he hadn’t taken it further than that. When he dropped her off that night, he’d given her a kiss that had left her vibrating, but he hadn’t asked to come in. She’d told herself she wouldn’t offer, and then spent the rest of the night aching from her own stupidity.

  Not until after the performance. Take it slow. No one has ever died of sexual frustration. Yet.

  Whenever he came to the theater, whether it involved meeting with Harris about his own scene or helping out some of the carpentry guys, he always came to see her first. He’d kiss her, then wrap his arms around her, letting her tuck her head beneath his chin as he held her for a lingering few seconds in an embrace that conveyed romance, af
fection and sexual interest all at once. It was the best part of her day.

  Once when he came to do that, she was in the pit with Shale, where they were discussing her scene needs. The Mistress was doing a provocative cage scene with her sub, Troy, the handsome blond male who worked with Logan at his hardware store. Shale was a nurse but always reminded Julie of a cross between a tall, slim fairy and a biker chick with her snug jeans, heavy metal rock T-shirts and her love of motorcycles.

  “Des,” Shale said fondly, giving him a hug and brushing her lips along his cheek. Julie had decided the man was known and loved by everyone in the BDSM community. “I never thought I’d have the pleasure of seeing you up on a stage again. It’s made us all love Julie even more. I suppose you’ll be doing something suspension related?”

  “Yeah.” Des borrowed Julie’s water and took a swig, handing it back. Julie noted Shale’s speculative look at the casually intimate gesture. She maintained a look of bland innocence, though she really wanted to succumb to a cocky and far too premature yeah, that’s right, he’s my man smugness. The amusement that touched Shale’s features made Julie wonder if she’d detected that. Des did say she had a rotten poker face.

  “He’s a circus performer, Julie. Don’t let him hide his gifts from you. He can do it all. Rope, fire, electric, roleplay, whip, wax, impact…name your freak.”

  Des made a noncommittal noise. “I’ll always learn new stuff, but I’m a rigger at heart.”

  “Yes you are,” Shale agreed, and elbowed Julie. “His suspension will be a crowd favorite, but he prefers the quiet stuff. That’s where his heart is.”

  Des shrugged. “Give me a few coils of rope, and a nice quiet outdoor place with a stream, a big tree…that’s the best.”