No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After (Safewords)

by Candace Blevins

  Sam laughed. “I won’t argue.” She motioned towards the back of the house. “I’m a little out of sorts today, so Ethan’s going to do most of the self-defense instruction, but I thought we could go out back and talk a little first. We have some iced lemon water if you’d like some?”

  Tara had asked for water with lemon when they ate, so Sam felt safe offering it now.

  “That would be great. This is a beautiful house,” she said as she spun in a slow circle taking everything in. “Looks like the divorce lawyer gig pays well.”

  “Thanks. We’re still moving things around, figuring out how to make it our home instead of my house.” She rolled her eyes. “I had a much smaller television in the den. What is it with men and the size of their TVs?”

  Sam caught what she’d said, and worried for a moment she may have offended Tara, but her new friend only laughed and said, “With most men I tend to think they’re compensating, but I doubt it’s the case with your man.”

  Ethan went to get their drinks, and Sam showed Tara to the back patio. The day promised to be warm, but with the ceiling fans it was still comfortable.

  “What happened to get you out of sorts, if I may ask? You’re walking more gingerly than the last time I saw you, and you just sat as if you have hemorrhoids.” Her eyebrows rose. “Or maybe a butt plug?”

  Sam laughed. She hadn’t intended to go into details, but Tara was easy to talk to. “We went to a play party last night, and Ethan tried out a new piece of equipment. Something he’s been thinking of building, but wanted to see how I did on it.”

  Tara’s smile let Sam see the sadist in her as she said, “Do I dare ask what piece of equipment?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Do you know what it means to ride the pony?”

  “Oh, girlfriend, do I ever.” Her face showed compassion now. “You poor thing. How long did he leave you on it?”

  Ethan stepped into the room. “Forty-five minutes, and I had her situated so she could go on her toes and come down, so she didn’t spend the entire forty-five minutes bearing her weight.”

  Tara leaned forward and patted Sam’s thigh. “If this was your first time, I’m sure you think this is as bad as it can get.” She looked to Ethan and back to Sam. “It isn’t, though. Forty-five minutes is a walk in the park; he only gave you a taste, baby-doll.”

  Sam’s gaze went to Ethan’s face, then Tara’s. “Yeah, so he said. What do you know about putting girls on the horse? I thought you just played with boys?”

  “Well, yeah, but there are usually girls around at the clubs, and I’m interested in how they handle things, seeing as how I’m slowly turning into one.” She sat back. “Not that anyone’s ever going to put me on a wooden pony. I do the torturing, thank-you-very-much, and once I get my girl parts I’m going to be very nice to them.”

  Ethan smiled and asked, “How much longer until you finish your process?”

  Tara looked at Ethan a few seconds before she asked, “You really are okay with me, aren’t you?”

  Sam threw a pillow at her new friend. “I told you he would be.”

  “You did,” Tara agreed, “but your husband is the exception. A lot of boyfriends and husbands pretend to be okay so their woman won’t be upset with them, but they most certainly aren’t okay being in the same room with me.”

  Ethan shrugged. “I try to see people for who they are, without focusing on gender or race.”

  “Well, since you brought it up, I’ll ask. Just what race are you?”

  Sam laughed. “I wanted to ask the first time I met him, too. He’s Chinese, Latino, Jamaican, German, Irish, and Italian.”

  Tara shook her head. “And one hundred percent man.” She looked at Sam. “You are one lucky woman. I prefer my men submissive, though, so there’s no worry of me misbehaving while he teaches me self-defense.”

  “Good to know,” Ethan deadpanned. “Speaking of self-defense,” he shifted back to his normal speaking voice, “have you had any formal training?”

  “I took a class about ten years ago, but it was a complete waste of time. Kirsten tells me Sam can teach me things I can actually use in real-life situations, though.”

  “Why was the class a waste of time?” Sam asked.

  “They just made me squat funny and wave my arms around.”

  Ethan chuckled. “It may have seemed pointless, but if you did it for any length of time you built some valuable muscle memory we can make use of.”

  “Right,” Sam agreed. “Let’s move downstairs, so we can get started.”

  When Tara said her goodbyes a few hours later, she did so with some new self-defense skills she felt confident using if necessary, and with the knowledge she was accepted by her new friend’s husband, which apparently wasn’t the norm. Sam was saddened her friend had been so nervous about their friendship falling apart because yet another man couldn’t accept her.

  As they closed the door after walking Tara to her car, Ethan said, “You were right about her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ethan shrugged. “You told me you liked her outlook on life, and her self-confidence, and I like those things, too. She’s special, but not because she’s chosen such a difficult path, which is what I assumed when you told me about her. She’s special just because of who she is and how she sees the world.”

  Sam smiled and hugged him. “I’m glad you see it, too.”

  Ethan pulled her towards the stairs. “Let’s get you into a bathing suit and go for a swim.”

  Sam thought a swim was a fantastic idea, and immediately considered which bathing suit might give her the least discomfort in the water. But, something else was going through Ethan’s mind, so she said, “Great idea, but there’s something else. What are you holding back?”

  Ethan rolled his eyes and walked towards the steps in front of her, so she couldn’t see his face. “I wondered why you asked if you were too muscular, if you were feminine enough for me, when you told me about her, and now I understand the question.”

  Sam wasn’t sure where he was going with it, but said what was on her mind. “Right, because she’s better at being a woman than I am.”

  “But I disagree. She’s just a different kind of woman. You’ve both chosen the image you want to reflect to the world, and nothing is wrong with either archetype. Tara is choosing to add more glamour and drama into her personality, while you’ve chosen a stronger, more professional persona. There’s nothing wrong with either of you, but your questions made sense once I’d spent a little time around her.”

  He turned and folded her into his arms. “You’re the perfect woman for me, you know that, right?”

  Sam closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. She loved the feel of his arms wrapped around her. “I do, but it’s still nice to hear. You’re kinda perfect for me, too.” She paused and added, “Minus the damned pony thing, anyway.”

  He patted her back and kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk more about the pony in the pool.”

  Sam intended to swim some laps, but made one circuit and asked Ethan to toss her some pool noodles. Kicking her legs hurt her entire groin.

  She wedged a few noodles behind her back and one under her knees, and relaxed every muscle in her body to let the noodles and water support her.

  Ethan gave her some time before floating up beside her and saying, “So, tell me your thoughts on last night.”

  “I came very close to making something off limits in writing, this morning.” She didn’t open her eyes to see his expression. She didn’t know if he’d show disappointment, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it if he did.

  “What made you decide not to?”

  “I haven’t actually decided for sure, actually.”

  After a couple of minutes of silence she said, “I still need to sleep on it a few nights, but I’m leaning towards telling you it’s off limits for anything except consequences for something extreme.”

  “And will you define extreme, or will you leave it up to m
e?”

  Yeah, keeping her eyes closed had been a good call. “Can we not jump to you getting defensive, please?”

  Sam heard him draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

  “Apology accepted. Thank you.” She opened her eyes long enough to find his hand and reach for it. “Forty-five minutes was hell, Ethan. I don’t want to ever have to do that again, but I also don’t feel I can dictate what you can and can’t do. I mean, I know you’re fair, so if you let me know what I have to do to receive it punitively, then all I have to do is follow your orders.” She shrugged and squeezed his hand. “I’m not promising I’ll never place a time limit on it, even for consequences, but as of now I’m willing to trust you won’t keep me on it longer than I can truly handle.”

  He squeezed her hand back. “I’ll go ahead and buy the materials to make one, then, and you need to consider how you want to write your contract addendum.”

  “Are you upset I’m considering writing a change?”

  “Not upset, exactly. I’m…” He paused long enough Sam wasn’t sure he’d finish his sentence, but he finally said, “I’m pleased to know if I truly cross the line you’ll let me know, and at the same time disappointed you’re taking back some of your power.”

  Sam considered his words a few moments before saying, “I’m good with that, actually, as I’m pretty conflicted about it, too.”

  He laughed, “What, if you’re conflicted then I should be, too?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Pretty much.”

  Chapter Five

  The Masterson’s court date was moved several times, and the following week Sam once again found herself in front of the judge.

  She was determined to keep the other attorney from postponing the inevitable yet another time, so she made notes as Mr. Masterson’s attorney once again presented a pile of reasons the case shouldn’t be heard.

  The judge eyed Sam, expecting her to protest, and she didn’t disappoint, pointing out it was important the couple find closure so each could move on with their lives, emphasizing the increased legal costs with each postponement, and a dozen other points of contention.

  The judge asked questions of both sides and rubbed his forehead. Sam asked to speak again, and when the judge waved his hand in what looked like permission, she suggested the judge look over his remarks from the last time he allowed a delay. She knew she was skating on thin ice, but felt the risk negligible for this particular case.

  She supplied the paperwork when she saw him flipping through pages without finding it, and could tell by the look on his face they’d be hearing the case today, before he said a word.

  Things went well before the lunch break, and Sam ate with her legal assistant and Jenna Masterson while the three brainstormed a list of points Sam hadn’t brought up yet. Sam stressed, again, how important it was the judge see Jenna as mature and in control.

  Barely two hours after lunch, the judge awarded Jenna Masterson the house and everything in it except Mr. Masterson’s clothing and the items left to him in his father’s will. He ordered a police officer to escort the couple to the family home after court to make the changeover. He also awarded the highest percentage of alimony and child support the law allowed, with no visitation. He told Mr. Masterson he should continue with anger management classes and therapy, and when a psychologist was willing to state he could be around his children, he could request the court change the current arrangements.

  Sam sent her legal assistant back to the office to prepare paperwork so they could get everything filed that afternoon. She wrote the name of a locksmith for Jenna Masterson, stressing she should have all locks changed, including the codes for the garage doors. She also gave her the name of someone who could make enough changes to her alarm system so her ex-husband wouldn’t know how to get around it to enter the home.

  “Does this mean we can’t stay at the women and children’s shelter anymore?”

  “I think it’s a good idea to stay there tonight, while his temper is likely riding high. However, I doubt he’ll want anything else on his record before standing trial in criminal court in a few weeks.”

  Sam called the police service center to request the court-ordered escort for Mrs. Masterson. She again recommended Jenna Masterson allow her ex-husband to take any items belonging to him as a child, or given to him by his parents or siblings, as well as anything related to his job, and anything else with special meaning for him but not the rest of the family. “The judge is trusting you to be the adult, since it’s obvious your ex-husband can’t. You don’t want him bringing you back to court to try to get possession of something his father gave him as a child, for instance. It’ll just make you look bad.”

  Jenna’s smile was huge as she said, “Ex-husband. Wow, that sounds good.”

  Sam was told the officer was en route to the family home and would allow no one inside until both parties were present. She worried for Jenna’s safety as she sent her on her way, but hoped Mr. Masterson’s impending case in criminal court would calm his temper. If the judge found him guilty of aggravated assault on her as an officer of the court, the minimum sentence was five years and the maximum twenty. At this point, she didn’t see how he could be found not guilty, the only question was how long he’d be sentenced.

  She turned her phone on, checked for any messages she may have missed while in court, and responded to a few before leaving the courthouse. Her phone was still in her hands as she descended the steps with the July sun blazing its punishing heat, and as she traversed the courthouse lawn she thought she might call it an early day and head home for a swim before meeting Ethan at the dojo.

  She heard the thunderous boom as she was slammed backwards, and would’ve hit the ground if her fighting instincts hadn’t kicked in to keep her on her feet. She crouched in perfect fighting form as her eyes focused on the gun in Mr. Masterson’s hand, and she looked down to see blood blooming across her shirt, between her left breast and shoulder. It hurt, but she could breathe, and her brain went immediately into survival mode. She’d dropped her bag when he shot her, but still had her phone in her right hand. He was too far away for her to kick or hit, but she might be able to throw her phone flat, as one would a throwing star, and knock him off balance long enough to get close and take the gun. Or, it might make him shoot her again.

  “Fucking cunt! You ruined my life! I lost everything because of you!”

  Still not taking responsibility for his actions, but now probably wasn’t a good time to point it out. She was lightheaded and didn’t want to pass out, so she forced a deep breath despite the sharp pains it created, and tried to focus on staying alert. A few people were standing off to the side, watching, and she hoped someone called for help. She couldn’t think well enough to form words, and wasn’t sure what to say, even if she could.

  There was yelling around her, and then she heard another gunshot and assumed he’d shot her again until she saw him fall. She looked up, towards the courthouse, and saw one of the bailiffs on the top step with his gun drawn.

  She meant to go to her knees, but her legs gave out on the way down and it was more of a fall, so she landed on her ass with a painful jar. She stayed sitting up, though; she wasn’t sure she could breathe if she laid down.

  Ethan, she had to tell Ethan or it would hurt his feelings. People were coming towards her, but she couldn’t give them attention and call Ethan at the same time. She looked at her right hand, unlocked her phone, and pushed the icon for his cellphone. When he answered all she could say was, “He shot me,” before she lost consciousness.

  * * * *

  She came to as the EMT’s were working on her, the pain in her shoulder and chest taking her breath, and the clouds in the blue sky above swimming so much she thought she might puke. She tried to sit up but hands held her down as someone told her she was going to be fine. A man asked her name, and whether she had any allergies. He took the mask off her face and she managed to get out, “Mo
rphine and Codeine,” but it hurt to talk. She remembered calling Ethan, but her phone wasn’t in her hand anymore.

  “Ethan! I was…” She ran out of air, pulled more in despite the burning knives moving around in her chest as it inflated, and finished with, “calling him!”

  “A courthouse officer took your phone and talked to him. Ethan’s your husband?”

  “Yes.” God, it was hard to breathe, but she had to tell them. “Frantic. He’ll be…” She tried to say frantic again, but couldn’t get enough air past her vocal cords.

  “He was told we’re taking you to Erlanger. I need you to stop talking so we can get you stabilized.” They put the mask back over her mouth and nose, which made breathing easier, but didn’t help calm the flaming arrows darting inside her chest.

  Sam tried to relax but the pain wouldn’t let her. She wanted to scream when they moved her into the ambulance, and she felt every bump in the road on the short drive to the hospital. They were obviously driving fast and the sirens were going full blast — both signaling she was in bad shape. She felt her mind slipping into blissful darkness but forced herself to stay awake and aware. She wanted to tell Ethan she loved him, and she hoped he’d be at the hospital.

  The ambulance slowed to make a sharp left turn and she assumed they were turning into the road beside the hospital. They turned again and hit some bumps, and finally came to a stop. The doors opened and she suppressed a scream as she was rolled out and jostled even more.

  A nurse approached and began placing pads on her chest the instant they rolled her into the building. Sam talked into the mask, “Ethan, my husband. Is he here?”

  Another nurse...no, she wasn’t in scrubs. A doctor? The woman followed them into an exam room and didn’t look up from her inspection of the entrance wound as she said, “We need to get you stabilized and get some pictures. Just lie back and try to relax.”