by CD Reiss
“Are you done closing the blinds?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Put the phone on the coffee table and put me on speaker.”
“Done.” I hoped he heard the anticipation in my voice.
“Pull up your skirt.”
“I’m wearing pants.” I unbuttoned them.
“Down all the way then. Bend at the waist and put your hands flat on the table. Do all the things we talked about. Put your ass up and your knees apart.”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, letting my jeans fall around my ankles. I bent over the table and spread my feet apart. The exposure was enough to arouse me, and when he spoke, I rubbed myself against the sound of his voice.
“How does that feel?”
“I wish you were here.”
“I have to go to Philadelphia tonight.”
No. I didn’t give voice to the cry of my heart. We didn’t have time for a night apart. I didn’t have time. Not a minute to spare.
“I know we only have a few nights,” he said, reading my mind again, “but I have to go.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“You better.”
“You’re getting five strokes for that.”
I wished he could have seen my face, because it reacted to a strong flow of tingling pleasure that ran from my waist to my knees.
“And you left the package home,” he said. “You’re supposed to carry it with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I want you to open it, but you have to earn it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I bent my waist more and leaned close to the phone, whispering, “Packing tape is sexy.”
“Not as sexy as your ass. So listen to me carefully. Tonight, don’t take a shower. Take a bath. A hot bath. Use your fingers between your legs until you’re wet and you want it.”
“I’ll be wet already if I’m in the bath.”
Did he chuckle? I heard nothing more than a pause, but he might have.
“I’ll clarify, but you’re still getting punished for the wise mouth. When you’re wet with your own juice, make your fingers wet, and I want you to put one in your ass.”
I stopped breathing. “I—”
“Yes, you can. When you’re loose, put in a second finger. When it’s all the way in, you can come.”
Suddenly aware of my exposure and position, I curdled. I wanted to pull my pants up and stand. I must have waited too long. He knew I was balking.
“Huntress?”
“Will it hurt?”
“The first time? Yes. But it’s nothing you can’t take.”
I rested my cheek on the table. “You like it when I hurt. Why?”
“Because you do it for me. You hurt for me. Because I say so. It means you trust me, and there’s nothing like that. It makes me want to push your pain harder and keep you safe at the same time.”
“I don’t want to hurt there.”
“That’s why I’ll make it as pleasurable as possible.” He cleared his throat. “This is training, Diana. And you’re doing great, but you need to get more comfortable with that part of your body. Get dressed. Dominic will be outside to take you home.”
“Adam,” I said, sitting halfway straight. “I think it’s fine. With Insolent. I really think he got the message.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
The screen went black.
As I pulled up my pants, I wondered if I could get away with skipping the bathtub exercise.
Chapter 28
What freaked me out most wasn’t the pain, but the violation. He’d used my mouth for pleasure more than once, and I enjoyed the feeling of being no more than a convenient object for him. The submission involved in removing my personality and desire from the equation was almost spiritual.
That was probably an exaggeration, but at the same time, it wasn’t. I was focused on nothing but him and my objectification.
Anal was a different thing entirely. The size of his cock wasn’t a joke, and he was bound to rip me open. Anal wasn’t just about submitting to him and his desire. I was submitting to the risk of damage and pain.
He was going to tear me apart for his pleasure.
As much as pain and blood and shredded tissue scared me, what scared me more was the sight of him enjoying it. There was more than a touch of sadism in his appetites. This could be where we found the limits of my masochism.
I knew I could refuse him. I could take as many redlines as I wanted. But I wanted to be trained. I wanted to do it right, and yes, I wanted to finish.
A thousand years before, when I was engaged to a man named Brian, I’d agreed to anal. It was the night of our engagement party, and I was a little more than a little drunk.
The night was winding down, and as we were kissing and stumbling down the hall, he pushed me into the men’s room. There were five stalls with heavy wooden doors. We went into one. I sucked him a little. He got under my Lacroix gown and fingered me until I came. Then I put my hands on the door and bent for him. He pulled my underwear down, and when he said he was going to fuck me in the ass, we both laughed.
A big gob of spit landed in my crack. That was all the lubrication I got, and I didn’t know any better. Neither did he. He shoved his dick in my ass, and the pain was brutal. It came from inside me. I screamed and told him to stop.
He did. He pulled out and apologized, but the pain in my gut stayed for another five minutes. We agreed to not do that again.
And that was that.
Now here I was being trained to take anal for someone else’s pleasure.
Yeah. I was scared.
“Diana?”
I jumped. Kayti stood in the doorway.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“We’re going to dinner. Wanna come?”
“God, yes.”
“Awesome! We were going to catch the N up to 49th and go to Gerdie’s?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” I was already closing windows on my computer. “I’m starving.”
“Great.”
“Wait.” I closed my laptop. I couldn’t take the train with her. Adam had gotten me a bodyguard and a car. Because he was afraid I’d picked up a rogue Dominant. Who I’d called. Because Adam hadn’t wanted to train me. Even though I was submissive. And we were still getting divorced but were acting as if we weren’t.
I couldn’t seriously explain half of that.
“Meet me out front,” I said. “I have a driver.”
Kayti; Frank, her fiancé who worked around the corner; and Zack piled into the back of the car. I got in the front next to Dominic.
“Do you know where Gerdie’s is?” I asked when the back door slammed shut.
“Sure do.” He glanced at me sidelong.
I was supposed to go to Murray Hill, but I was hungry and with friends. So I shot him a look back, and he pulled away, turning uptown.
“What’s with the private car, Di?” Zack asked.
“She’s the boss, Zack,” Kayti protested. “It’s the boss life.”
“No hack license,” Zack continued. “That’s not a driver.” He changed his tone so it reached Dominic. “You a bodyguard?”
We loved having Zack at McNeill-Barnes because he was sharp and perceptive. That was the exact reason I didn’t care for him in the car at that moment.
“Zack, you’re being an ass,” I said, turning halfway. “If I say he’s the driver, he’s the driver.”
What was that tone? I heard myself as if I were someone else, and I sounded like Adam Steinbeck telling me to get on my knees.
And Zack heard me loud and clear. He actually nodded and shut the fuck up.
I could get used to this.
Gerdie’s was packed, but Kayti had magical mystery reservations. Zack to my left. Kayti to my right. Frank across from me, and Dominic somewhere in midtown. He’d said he’d “stay close,” but he had to put the car somewhere, and this was not a neighborhood known for legal p
arking spaces.
Everything was normal on the surface. We talked about work. Kayti showed off her ring. Frank blushed like a schoolboy. Zack leaned two inches too close to me and I jabbed him with my elbow while I brought the fork to my mouth. As the courses came and went, I started to think about taking a bath when I got back. I wondered what my fingers would feel like, what position I’d put myself in. How silly I’d look. I wondered if I could get away with not doing it and saying I did.
I’d missed the last three jokes and I was now laughing because everyone else was. I was ready to get home and just do this thing.
I got up and handed the waiter my card.
“I’ll get this ready,” he said.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Downstairs, to the left. Ladies’ is the last door.”
—Dominic says you’re out—
Adam’s text came as I pushed open the door to the single toilet.
—Dinner. Why? Do you miss me?—
—I need you to be careful—
I wanted to be careful, but I also wanted to eat. I texted him as I sat.
—I’ll be careful. I’m getting the bill
and going home—
—And taking your bath?—
—Yes—
I stood, straightened my clothes, and washed my hands. The light was terrible. Blue green and dim. I looked like a ghoul. Had I stopped thinking about Adam since I’d gotten there? Had I laughed with my friends freely or been fully present for one second?
No. I hadn’t. I wasn’t finished. I was incomplete. In process. Waiting. And I hated it. Maybe that was why I never finished things. The in-between place where the marriage got hard, or school was a drag, or the project was in production were empty and easy to leave.
I couldn’t this time.
—I’ll be thinking of your fingers—
—I’ll be thinking of your ass—
—I need you to love me, I’m going to
die if I do all this and you still leave.
There’s no one else, Adam. No one
I’d let do what you want to do. I’ve
never loved another man and
I promise I’ve never trusted another.
I can’t live without you. If we split up
after you train me I’ll set myself
on fire I swear—
Highlight>select all>delete.
—My ass is yours—
I crawled into bed victorious. Slowly, I’d gotten two fingers in. My ass stretched with the second finger, then closed around them like a vise. I brought myself to orgasm with the other hand, and the involuntary pulsing around my inserted digits shocked me.
Ten o’clock. Was he back at the hotel? Or was he exploring Philly’s scene?
I scooted under the covers with my phone.
—I did it—
The reply came immediately.
—Good girl—
—I’ll take it easy on you
tomorrow night—
—I have to go to the Literacy thing
at the Intercontinental—
—That’s tomorrow?—
Nobody’s perfect. Not even Adam, who never seemed to forget anything. He’d probably scraped the event from his mind when he moved his stuff out of McNeill-Barnes. In his bones, he was a real-estate mogul, not a publisher.
—I’m going with Dad, then we’ll
probably go back to Park
and I’ll crash there—
Not that I was looking forward to sleeping in my old room, but that was how it usually worked when Dad and I went out. Even when I was married.
—I’m taking you—
—No—
—(…)—
Whatever he was typing, I didn’t want to hear it.
—If we’re seen together they’re going
to say the divorce is off. And so if we
split up after the 30th day it’s going
to hurt to have to tell everyone again—
—(…)—
—Just let dad take me—
Fight for me, Adam. Fight for me.
I thought he’d never answer. The dots crawled on the bottom of my screen, but whatever he was typing, it didn’t make it to my screen.
Fight. For. Me. You fuckwad!
He was taking too long to answer. Way too long. What was the problem already? All he had to do was fight the tiniest little bit.
Maybe this wasn’t worth it. Maybe I was climbing a tree without a foothold.
—Just talked to Lloyd. He
doesn’t want to go. Be at the
apartment at six. I’ll help
you get dressed—
I practically danced under the covers and, I admit, I squealed with happiness. He was fighting for me. Maybe it was one night and not a lifetime, but he was fighting.
—Put the box on the night table.
And carry it with you tomorrow.
Got it?—
—Yes, sir—
Yessiree-fucking-bob.
Chapter 29
DAY TWENTY-EIGHT
Long white ones for high cholesterol. Click click. Yellow once a day as a last resort to keep it from getting worse. Click click. Aspirin for blood. Albuterol inhaler—full.
“Then Jesse Helms tells her he’ll be a dead man before he puts a woman like that on the NEA committee.” Dad snapped the paper.
He had the ability to read something and talk about something completely different at the same time. I could barely count pills and have a conversation at the same time.
“He was a bastard,” I grumbled, recounting the little pink pills.
“So I’m glad I don’t have to go.”
“Just want to make sure, Dad. Adam can be pretty persuasive.” I shook the bottle of cholesterol meds. There weren’t enough.
“I like seeing you two together.”
“You’re running out of yellow ones,” I said. “You should have another week.”
“No,” he said with a cough and a short wheeze. “I took what I was supposed to.”
“Are you sure?” I was alarmed suddenly. I’d asked him to take over the company and done nothing to help him manage his meds. “When I was gone, are you sure?”
“Loretta’s a professional.”
His nurse came once a day and she wasn’t his daughter. She was a hired hand. Yes, a professional, but what the hell did she know?
I stood and flipped through the calendar by the back door. He’d gotten a new bottle just when I remembered, and a new prescription had been called into the pharmacy in the meantime. Besides, the idea that he’d taken double the dose of his medication was ridiculous. He would have noticed.
I kept counting the weeks, not because I distrusted Loretta or my father, but because something about the way the time had passed stuck in my throat. Why did it matter? I knew when the thirty days ended, so why did I keep knotting my brows about the calendar?
I dumped his yellow pills and counted. Those were a week short as well. I’d carefully counted the days in Montauk, but the weeks before had blended into one.
“Dad?”
He looked over his half-moon glasses. “Yes?”
“I have to go.” I slid the pills back into the bottles. Click click clickclickclick.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah.”
Dad didn’t have to say a word. I stopped at the door and looked back at him. His belt held up his pants, and his shirt folded under the arms. He was soft around the middle and thinner than he used to be.
“Did you…” I took a sharp breath before getting on with it. “Were you happy with Mom?”
He took off his glasses and leaned back. “Why are you asking me that?”
“Because. I don’t know.”
“I loved your mother. She was better than me, and I blamed her for that, but I loved her. She forgave me. Which proved she was even better. But I still loved her. I wasn’t self-destructive enough to let her go for loving me.”
I kissed him on the cheek. He grabbed my wrist as hard as he could, which wouldn’t have held me if I didn’t want to be held. He didn’t have that kind of strength.
“And I love you,” he said. “I won’t lie and say that didn’t factor in.”
“Got it.”
I ran out, grabbed my coat, and didn’t slow down until I got back to the loft. I ran so fast I felt scared and excited at the same time, balancing them on opposite sides of my brain without worrying about dropping them.
Chapter 30
I was supposed to go to Murray Hill right after my dad’s, but I didn’t. The loft was a short cab ride, and I could make it in time.
I ran in, slammed the door, and stripped my coat and scarf, leaving them in piles on the floor. Kicked off one boot. Took a step. Kicked off the other boot. Unbuttoned my pants. Got into the bathroom. Ripped the package open. Skimmed the directions, which were printed in four-point type. Yanked my pants down all the way, sat on the bowl, and peed right onto the stick.
What do you want?
I knew what I wanted. I wanted to have a baby before I got cancer. I wanted to just do that one thing, then they could remove every body part that made me a woman. They could turn me into a flat-chested Barbie doll. I was all right with that. Take it. If it made me live, just take it.
And what about Adam? What about the knot of conflicting feelings we both had? What about the compounded opposites? The love that flicked off like a light switch for one of us just as the other’s flicked on? It was a disaster. A complete disaster. I couldn’t bring a child into the mess we’d created.
I sat on the toilet with my hand trapped between my closed thighs. I couldn’t look.
What did I want?
Was it important to know before I looked at the stick? The result wouldn’t change.
But I had to know what to hope for. I had to believe something before I knew something. How else would I know how to feel?