Unorthodox Chemistry

by Lilah E. Noir

  Just low blood pressure, nothing to worry about.

  Once I crawled back to the living room, I gasped in shock. The wall clock showed it was nearly four in the afternoon. Had I really been sleeping for so long? No wonder my body and mind felt broken and in total shock after such a long rest.

  The taste of the coffee from earlier in the morning was disgusting and cold. It would keep me going until I made a new pot, though. I sipped from the wishy-washy liquid that may or may not have had any caffeine left in it. I went to the window and stared at the streets below me. It was a cold and bleak January afternoon and it was raining outside. Last night's fog had drained but the gathering clouds in the drab, stormy gray sky were getting darker. It would most likely rain the entire day.

  A perfect day to spend under several warm blankets and cuddled against the man in my life.

  Except that I was single again.

  I finished the leftover coffee in one solid gulp and forced myself to endure its full bitterness. My stomach rumbled in protest. It was time to see what I could turn into a late breakfast while the fresh pot was brewing.

  Usually, I ate outside. I didn't expect to find anything but yoghurt, probably expired.

  My presumption turned out to be correct. Perhaps there was a cereal left in the cupboards. I stood on tiptoes and pulled one of the handles.

  All hunger faded when I opened the small cupboard door. A lonely bottle of red wine was stocked at the back of it, behind the cereal boxes. It must have been sitting there for ages.

  It was my favorite wine, the wine Thomas and I had shared before the start of my therapy. Right before our first scene at his home. When did I buy another bottle? Maybe he bought it for me during one of the times he visited? While he was still living with me?

  It hit me like a bullet.

  I bought the bottle before the pictures leak. I'd been planning to keep it until it was time to celebrate our first anniversary. To me, that was a symbol of letting our relationship grow and mature. I was saving it for a special moment.

  A special moment that never came. Just like the mythical weekend we never got to have. There were so many things we could have done together.

  But no moment was good enough.

  Coffee could wait.

  Instead, I pulled out the long bottle, put it on the counter and opened it. The thick fragrance filled my nostrils when I pulled the cork out and indulged in a small sip. The taste was as suave as I remembered it, running like smooth silk down my tongue.

  It would be even better if there were someone to share with.

  Perhaps I shouldn't have been in such a rush to open it. Perhaps I could have waited until the right moment, until Thomas and I settled a date for that weekend.

  No.

  Another sip of the Syrah overwhelmed me enough and chased away the cold from my veins. I picked up a glass from the counter, poured myself a generous dose of the red ruby liquid and headed for the bathroom.

  The bathtub was slowly filling with bubbles and steam from the piping hot water. I stripped and left my clothes lying on the floor. I sank inside and leaned my head against the edge of the tub. The pain from the bruises down my ass, back and thighs was strangely soothing. The scalding water was purifying. It'd take more than a bath to burn away all my problems and insecurities but it was a good start.

  I picked up the wine from the steel glass holder on the wall and spent a few minutes just staring at it, lost in thought. The swirling, blood-like liquid and the warmth put me under a spell. When the wine taste finally reached my lips, the memory of that first night rushed back in my mind. The exchanged looks, the subtle flirting, his outrageous offer, the dungeon. His palms kneading my breasts and sliding down, coaxing me to spread myself, to open up for him.

  I rested a hand between my legs to stroke myself and took another sip of wine. It was supposed to slowly build up my arousal but all I felt was sadness. The strong, physical sensations of the present, the subtle flavor of the wine, the ache of my skin and muscles, the lightheaded carelessness were much stronger.

  Stronger than the memories. As if the red swirl was devouring all I had left behind.

  It was pointless to fool myself. The hot water and indulgence were good but I needed so much more. I put the glass back in its place.

  The soap bubbles rolled down my wet skin when I raised myself from the bath tub. I ignored them, wrapped myself with the fluffy towel and walked out of the steamy bathroom.

  After I picked up my phone, I headed to the bedroom. The red collar was lying on top of the carefully folded lingerie in the drawer. Maybe the alcohol had messed with me and I was slowly succumbing to madness but its bright leather looked glowing.

  I rested my fingers on top of it and squeezed it gently before I lifted it and pressed it against my chest. After ages of following that ritual right before falling asleep, my courage slowly came back to me. I took a deep breath, rubbed the metal plate against my skin and dialed the number.

  A dialing sound. A pause.

  Please. Please, answer.

  "Hello?"

  We're off to a rocky start.

  The harsh wind blowing and the crispy winter air had already chilled me to the bone. I looked up at the sky with narrowed eyes and frowned at the dark clouds. Over the last two weeks, the sun had broken through the thick wall of gloomy fog maybe one or two times. Constant rain flooded the streets. Its murmur would usually have calmed me down but these days, it only made my anxiety worse. The clouds were always there, sinister guards and a cruel premonition. Danger hanging over my head with every step I was taking.

  Or just your regular San Francisco winter in early February, maybe slightly colder than usual. The world doesn't revolve around your relationship drama. Nature doesn't conspire against you to make waiting even worse. It's your own damned fault for not insisting that he should come upstairs.

  A few raindrops fell in my hair, finally propelling me to open the umbrella I'd been holding tight the entire time. The wind whipped my face, and the ache in my skin was similar to the pain from a good workout on the spanking bench, minus the pleasure.

  Only five minutes in that cold, miserable weather and my body was already trembling like a leaf.

  It was funny. Two weeks ago when Thomas and I had been for our night stroll out of The Fortress, it had been just as cold. The wind and icy air had hardly bothered me then. We were moving but still, I was wearing a very thin dress, flimsy high heeled shoes and a man's suit jacket to keep me warm.

  On that Saturday morning, I was dressed in my best, calf length winter pea coat of thick black wool, cutting out at my hips with soft fur on the inside. The rest of my outfit consisted of a pair of stylish matching leather boots, gloves and dense tights that hugged my hips and legs. I picked a blue, knitted dress as an extra layer of protection. Such clothes would usually keep me warm and comfortable. Yet I was numb, freezing and running out of patience.

  Planning a visit to the beach during one of the coldest winters of the Bay didn't rank among my smartest ideas.

  Still, we both needed that escape.

  Thomas was more than a little cautious and hesitant when I called him. He showed surprise that Nate and I had figured things out so quickly and asked me a thousand times if I was sure. The frustration built up inside me while we were talking.

  I said that if he wanted to, I'd sign an agreement saying I wanted it and I wasn't doing it out of despair. An awkward pause, pregnant with anxiety, followed my words. Just when I was about to clear my throat, he spoke without much zeal. He said he'd think about it and promised to call me over the next few days. My simple "Oh" was laced with way too much frustration.

  "Lina, I told you, it's not that I don't want to." His voice was so soft it was practically a whisper. "We're in this situation because we made too many impulsive decisions. If this weekend means a new beginning for us I want to do it right."

  That made sense but it could also be an excuse to string me along... as a punishment or revenge.
I shook my head to chase away those poisonous thoughts and said, as calmly as possible, "All right, Thomas, but don't take too long. Your fears might overwhelm you. Trust me, I'm sick to death of being afraid all the time."

  Thomas and I had our differences. We clearly had a different understanding of the phrase 'too long'. Perhaps to him, two weeks weren't long enough to gather his courage. To me, they were a slow torture.

  Every day I woke up hoping he'd finally make a decision. I followed the Procedure religiously and kept myself busy but the nagging expectation wouldn't go away. The hours dragged. My work was beginning to suffer, as much as I hated to admit it. I spent all my free time checking my phone for new calls or messages.

  I realized how ridiculous I was being, but that didn't make me feel any better. Good old insomnia made itself at home in my brain once again. If I slept longer than four hours, that was a good night. The worst part was that Thomas and I never set a specific time by which I'd know he had given up.

  I didn't want to call him again. That would be the behavior of a desperate stalker. All I could do was wait.

  Nate was my only comfort. When we met for dinner at our usual spot, I feared the encounter would be awkward and prove that exes couldn't stay friends. It was shocking but nothing had changed between us except that we didn't kiss or hold hands. We spent the entire evening in the quiet, isolated box of the restaurant and talked until closing time.

  He heard the entire dirty story with Thomas, how our relationship had started and progressed, of Seth, of my abduction and all the bad stuff that followed. I got it all off my chest except for that night when Thomas had crossed the line. It was difficult to explain, and Nate's involvement in the story made it even more unpleasant. He was shocked enough.

  We also talked about his own experience with pleasure and pain, and what he planned to do about it. Nate said he'd been reading a plethora of Fetlife articles and watching the occasional femdom video. He asked me shyly what I thought about him setting up an appointment with Allie.

  I wasn't sure how I felt about her after the stunt she'd pulled at the birthday party. Perhaps she did it out of honest intentions to help her friend but I hardly knew the woman. In the end, I told him there was no harm in meeting her as long as he was careful.

  We often talked on the phone over the week and I shared my anxiety over the lack of news from Thomas. He said it seemed strange to him and asked me if I was sure my ex wasn't playing with my feelings.

  Thomas finally called during one lonely Saturday evening. It was two weeks after the party at The Fortress. Two weeks of pacing back and forth and cursing myself for being such a fool. I was sitting on the couch with a pillow pressed against my stomach and a glass of wine in hand, thinking about getting myself a cat. The moment my phone rang, I half expected it to be Nate and nearly dropped the phone out of excitement when Thomas' name flashed on the screen.

  He sounded grim and serious when he informed me of his decision. I was relieved to get some clarity after all those sleepless nights and dark days of rain and tension. His indifferent tone of voice and cold attitude baffled my mind and blew my fuses.

  I wanted to learn to trust again but Thomas wasn't making it any easier. Two weeks ago he was passionate even in his cruelty. When he called me, I had the feeling I was talking to a highly intelligent bot. All short phrases and commands. Calculated, careful language.

  "Does your house have a good heating system?"

  "Yes," I answered him in confusion. "Heat pumps. It can get as hot as a sauna and--"

  "Good. Pack lightly. You won't need many clothes. Don't bother with panties. Make sure to take the red boots if you still have them."

  "I still have them, yes. It sounds like you have planned the weekend thoroughly," I stated dryly. "Care to tell me what you have in mind?"

  "You will find out in due time."

  He was lucky he wasn't in the same room as me. I wouldn't have resisted slapping him.

  So, here I was, freezing in the cold February morning, as per his instructions. He wanted me to wait for him in front of my building at exactly eight in the morning, packed and ready to leave immediately. We'd travel to Stinson Beach in his car. It would be strange to go to the beach house in someone else's vehicle. Thomas reassured me that he'd respect my wishes and drive me back to the city if I wanted to leave earlier than Monday morning.

  I hissed and looked down at my wristwatch. Thomas insisted on punctuality but he was nearly ten minutes late. My patience was getting thin. I was about to call him and let him know I'd wait in my apartment and come down only when he arrived.

  A silver van stopped on the street in front of me. At first, I thought it was someone making a delivery and didn't pay too much attention. The door on the driver's side opened and Thomas walked out. He was back to his usual style, dressed in a leather jacket and jeans.

  "Sorry for keeping you." He walked to me with a confident stride and picked up the traveling bag from my hand. "Something came up."

  "That's why it would have been better if you had called me once you were here." I glared at him but handed him the bag without any protest.

  "Well, I wanted to check how obedient you still were." Thomas smirked and his green eyes lit up with light mischief. He was back to wearing glasses but kept the beard and hairstyle from The Fortress.

  Right at that moment, I wasn't sure what I wanted more, to throw myself into his arms or to punch the lights out of him. "Get in the van to warm yourself a little. I'll be back in just a minute."

  He went to the trunk to put my luggage there. I didn't need a second invitation as my face was growing numb and my legs were turning into ice blocks.

  So, it was all on purpose to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible. Just like I suspected. Yes, a fantastic new beginning.

  I got in the passenger seat, removed my gloves and immediately turned the heat up. Life was slowly coming back to my frozen fingers but I was still irritated. What kind of mind games was he playing?

  Thomas was true to his word this time and got back in the van as quickly as possible. That was the moment it struck me how tense he was. He avoided eye contact and when he placed his hands on the wheel, he clenched it for dear life.

  The next fifteen minutes passed in an awkward, tense silence. Thomas was focused on the road and didn't bother to start a conversation, not even casual small talk. His eyes were dark and his mouth was in a straight line.

  "Seriously, why?" I removed my coat and stayed in just the light, knee-length woolen dress. "You made me wait for two damned weeks before you returned my call. Wasn't that a sufficient punishment in your book?"

  He narrowed his eyes and squeezed the wheel harder before he responded.

  "What makes you think I want to punish you at all?" He exhaled and stepped on the gas with more force than necessary. His voice vibrated with annoyance. "Maybe it has nothing to do with you. Have you given it any thought? The world doesn't revolve around Lina Riley."

  What the hell? I brought my hands to the heater and took my time to think of an appropriate response.

  "Thomas, I want to make and effort and make this work." My heart was beating restlessly when I stared at his profile. Anxiety reared its ugly head but I did my best to push it away and stay firm. "You're angry. You're acting like this whole trip is a chore you have to endure because of me. If you really didn't want to spend time with me..."

  "Here we go again." Thomas puffed through his gritted teeth and threw me a sideways glance. "Do we really have to do this while I'm driving? We have the entire weekend to fight."

  "I'm sorry, are we fighting? Because trust me, fighting is the last thing I want to do." I looked down at my lap and placed the folded umbrella in my handbag. "But I don't want to spend the rest of the trip in awkward silence, with you acting like I put a gun to your head and forced you to be here."

  The despair in those words tasted as sour as vinegar. The lump in my stomach grew larger. What if he confirmed he really didn't want this and
was just doing me a final favor?

  "You're unbelievable." He sighed and looked ahead but every now and then his eyes flicked towards me, dark with a fury on a leash. "Do you ever hear anything I tell you? Because sometimes, I swear, it's like I'm talking to a wall."

  "All I know is what I see in front of me." I squeezed my hands into fists and let out a loud breath. "I don't think you can forgive me for everything that happened between us."

  "Or maybe, just maybe..." He paused and hit the pedal harder, getting dangerously close to the speed limit when we got onto the interstate. "Hasn't it occurred to you what kind of pressure this journey is? Not just for me but for both of us? I'm afraid it's a big fucking test I'm meant to fail."

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" I'd been trying to keep my voice low and calm but that didn't last. "I wanted us to make a first step or..."

  "Lina, you said it. It's either farewell or an attempt at a new beginning. Both those things are pretty fucking stressful." Thomas gritted his teeth and picked up the speed. He was stepping hard on the pedal and was already way past the speed limit.

  "Please, slow down," I uttered in a worried voice and that calmed him a little. He looked down at the dashboard and eased his foot.

  "I've been racking my brain for two weeks. How to approach the situation, what to do and how not to screw it up." His voice was shaking as he slowed down. "If we decide to split up that would be the best and worst weekend of my life. If we try to make it work, I'm scared I'll ruin it."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. It was best not to rile him up at the moment but we were getting somewhere.

  "You make it sound like you're the only one who's risking something. The only one responsible if our relationship goes wrong. Do you have any idea how fucking patronizing that is? I might be the submissive but like you said, that doesn't make me a voiceless slave."

  "Oh yes?" He smirked and said with a sarcastic voice. "Because last time we were discussing slavery..."

  "Thomas, please, enough. Okay, I'll say it." I closed my eyes and leaned against the seat. "You were right all along. I was scared and weak back then. I wanted to hide in you just so I wouldn't have to face my problems. Hell, I'm still scared and weak."