Embracing the Fall

by Lainey Reese

  Evan took pity on her. “I already spoke with Gage. I know that Ziporah is interested in joining us.” He smiled gently at her and placed a hand on her shoulder to soothe.

  “And that’s okay with you?” she asked, wide eyed.

  “I’m looking forward to it.” He nodded.

  Her shoulders wilted in relief so drastically it was comical. “That’s wonderful. Thank god.” She started fidgeting again and said in a rush, “So, I guess the next step is safe words and limits. I know I don’t want any blood play or anything with urine–gross, and–” Evan chuckled and placed one finger on her trembling lips. “You know, this isn’t a typical situation. This also isn’t a club setting and this is going to be the first BDSM experience for the both of you, right?” At her timid nod he continued. “Why don’t we do it this way? Let’s take some time to get to know each other a little first. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds wonderful actually. Hey! I know. We could go to our place and have a Buffy-thon and drink till we can’t walk straight. Would you like that?” She gave him wide hopeful eyes and chewed on her bottom lip.

  That was a loaded question if he ever heard one. Evan tore his gaze up from where she was biting her bottom lip and looked her right in the eyes.

  “What the hell is a Buffy-thon?”

  Her laugh was infectious and tugged a reluctant grin from him, which was no small feat considering how aroused he’d been all night.

  “Buffy, The Vampire Slayer,” she managed to get out after a few moments. “It’s only the best cult classic show of the ninety’s. Really. Clever, funny as heck and addicting. Didn’t you watch it back then?”

  Evan fought to keep the laugh locked behind his lips. He was sure that was not meant to be a joke. “No, sweetheart, I did not. In fact, I’ve never even heard of it.”

  “Oh my gosh! Then you have to come. Because seriously, even though it was written for teenage girls, this show is awesome. The creator, Joss Whedon, is a sci-fi god.”

  “Well, we’ll have to see about that.” He slipped his hand up to cup the back of her neck and enjoyed watching her flush in reaction to his touch. “Does Ziporah know you’re inviting me?”

  She had to swallow before she could answer, a fact he noted with pleasure. “She will when you get there.”

  In that moment, Evan saw that he had a brat on his hands. “Perfect. Put your address and number in my phone and I’ll be right behind you two.”

  She gave a happy bounce and a squeal, and then rocked back and forth on her heels as she typed in his phone. He was studying her bent head as she did, then she floored him with her whispered words. “I know that Zoe and Terryn probably told you I’m a chicken. But, I’m ready for this. I want this and I’m really happy that they picked you.”

  He nodded first and took a moment before he spoke, not trusting his voice right away. “That’s lovely to hear, sweetheart. I’m really glad they picked me, too.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she swallowed again and licked her lips. After she handed his phone back, she lifted her face before she added, “I’m not scared.” And walked away.

  The hell she wasn’t, he thought. The fact that she was and wanted to face those fears about brought him to his knees. He grabbed his coat from a table and headed for the door; life just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

  “You did what?” Ziporah could not believe what she had heard. “Repeat that, please, because I know you did not just say that you invited Evan over.”

  “Yes, my friend I did just say that.” When Cami tried to bounce away like it was no big deal, Z grabbed her by the hand.

  “Hey,” she said in a voice soft but stern. “We were just supposed to meet him tonight. You know, see if we liked him and then go from there.”

  “Well, we did like him. I know you liked him as much as I did. And he’s not coming over to tie us up. He’s coming to watch Buffy with us. Just to get to know us better. That’s all.”

  “Oh, all right, I guess. I still can’t believe we are doing this.” A quick kiss to her temple and then she went on. “Millions of people are into it, but it feels so weird to think that if everything goes right, we are going to be letting this man put us in shackles and spank us.”

  “Z? You don’t think I’m like this because of what happened to me, do you? Or that it happened because I’m like this?” Her voice was small and it was tinged with the guilt and shame that a lot of survivors carried. Z cursed quietly, yet with venom, as she pulled Cami into a fierce hug.

  “Of course not, idiot. You have asked yourself those same questions over and over again. And every time, you get the same answer. You were a submissive long before that happened to you, and you don’t stop being who you are just because you were attacked. And you were attacked because of who he was–an asshole–not because of anything that had to do with who you are.”

  Cami smiled and said, “Okay. You’re right. I know. Just god! I’m so mixed up. What if–”

  “Relax,” Z murmured and moved away to make some popcorn. “I’m going to be right here the whole time. No use torturing yourself with what ifs. Let’s just strap in and enjoy the ride.”

  “Hi,” Cami thought her voice sounded like the squeak of a teenage boy in puberty and tried not to grimace as she faced Evan at the door. “Come on in.” She stepped back and motioned him ahead of her. “Can I get you a drink? We got just about everything and non-alcoholic stuff too, if you are done drinking for the night.”

  As he shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her, Cami almost moaned. Not only was it leather, but it was soft as butter and smelled deliciously of him. It brought back all of the tingling feelings she’d had every time he got within range of her this evening.

  She followed him through the short hallway into their living space. Z could afford a place on her own, barely, and so could Cami, but in those cases with the cost of living in New York City, they would be dismal places indeed. But together, they were able to afford an apartment that was spacious, above ground and in an area that they both felt safe walking home to.

  As Evan looked around, Cami felt pride in her and Z’s home. It was lovingly decorated by both of them, with Cami’s country living touches finding harmony with Z’s more sleek modern style.

  “Nice place you girls got here.” Evan’s warm voice filled the room and Cami almost closed her eyes to savor the rich tone of it.

  “Thanks.” She tugged a bright colorful throw blanket out of the way and motioned him toward the couch. “This is the prime TV seat. Z and I fight over it all the time. So, as honored guest, you get to sit here.”

  The smile he shot her was hot enough to melt snow and Cami caught herself sighing as she snuggled the blanket into her chest. Fire erupted in her cheeks when she heard him chuckle because he caught her, too. “Umm, here.” She flung the blanket at him and headed into the kitchen. “I’m gonna see if Z needs help with the snacks. What would you like to drink?”

  “Whatever you two are having is fine with me,” Cami heard as she almost tripped in her haste to flee.

  “Oh my God, Z.” She was breathless and scared and more excited than she remembered being in a long time. “He’s so hot. And his voice! Did you hear him? That accent turns my legs to jelly, I swear.”

  “Yeah,” Z said as she loaded up the pretty serving tray they found at a craft fair in Central Park last spring. “It’s enough to make any girl turn to jelly, so don’t feel too bad.”

  “Hey, Evan?” Cami called out, “we are going to be just a minute, okay?”

  “No problem, ladies,” he replied, “take your time.”

  “What’s up?” Z asked, still staring at the tray like it held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. “Why did you do that?”

  “So you can tell me what’s wrong.” Cami inched closer and rested her forehead on Z’s. “Spill it, sweetie. Two minutes ago you were all no-nonsense and take charge, and now you look like a good wind could knock you down. Is it Evan? Want me to ask him to go?
I will. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I can do it on my own. I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine.” Cami reached up and stroked one hand over the chic glossy bob of Z’s dark hair. It was like running her hand over satin; it was so smooth and healthy.

  The fact that Z didn’t move or immediately shoot down her concerns had Cami worried. Z was the strong confident one between the two, so if she was afraid to speak up, something must be terribly wrong.

  “Don’t ask him to leave,” she finally whispered, and with a sigh, turned to wrap one arm around Cami’s waist and place one hand lovingly on her cheek. “But, I didn’t expect this, Cam. I like him, too. A lot. It’s making this seem more important than I thought it would be.”

  Cami saw the same expression on Z’s face whenever she was telling her a hard truth, like when her bird had flown away because Z had forgot to close the window. Or when Z told her their friend Angie had been attacked and that they didn’t know if she was going to make it.

  So, seeing that same look now told Cami that she had better think before she spoke. Evan was handsome, no doubt. But, they had just met him today and Z wasn’t the type to get all girly over a boy. For her to confess this now meant that Z must be as nervous about this next step as Cami was herself. Somehow, that was more encouraging to Cami than all of the coaching she’d been getting so far. If her stalwart and un-flappable Ziporah was all flustered and excited too, then that meant that she wasn’t alone.

  So, in the spirit of solidarity, she wrapped an arm around Z’s tense shoulders and said, “Okay. So what?” With a cheeky smile that she always used to get Z to give in to her, she grabbed the serving tray. “It’s a Buffy-thon. Then who knows? We’re here to explore, right? To embrace our fantasies and desires? Open ourselves up to that lifestyle and you to the adventure of a lifetime? Let’s go out there and face this. Together, like we’ve faced everything.” She laughed like a loon at the jaw-dropped look Z gave her. “What? You’re the only one who can be encouraging and strong? I’m not allowed to give you a boost when you need it?”

  “Well, no,” Z said in a mock stern voice as she tried not to smile and failed. “Not when it comes to sex, you’re not. I’m the one who’s supposed to be here for you, not the other way around.”

  “This is different then.” Cami declared. “This time around, it looks like we are going to have to be there for each other.” Cami turned to go, and then at the last second looked back over her shoulder. “Now, I know it’s just supposed to be Buffy and no fooling around, but do you think we could get him to let us take a peek at what he’s bringing to the table? You know, in case it turns out he’s only a one-inch wonder.” Then she sailed out, laughing as Ziporah cracked up.

  Evan heard the laughter coming from the kitchen and turned to look just as they came scampering into view. They had both changed into lounging clothes before he got there and their carefree smiles and comfortably sexy attire reignited the fire that had been banked within him. Cami with her lush curves was dressed in a pair of grey work-out sweats that weren’t quite yoga pants. They were way too sexy to be termed just sweats, with the way they rode low on her hips and draped so lovingly over her remarkable ass, though. She had a slouchy cut-up pullover on top of it that he assumed she thought was modest because it was baggy. But it was slipping off her bare shoulders and drooping down in the front, showing him glimpses of the soft looking sports bra under it and even softer looking breasts.

  Ziporah was dressed in what he liked to call God’s gift to mankind: black skintight leggings. They clung to every toned and lithe inch of her– from the perfectly round globes of her high, tight ass, over her sleekly muscled thighs and down those mile long legs to her dainty bare feet. Instead of a loose fitting sweater like Cami, she had on a beat up tee shirt that at one time must have sported a band’s logo or album cover, but now all he could make out was faded colors and a few letters. It was so worn it was almost no barrier at all and as she dropped onto the couch cushion next to him, the gentle wobble of her small, high breasts told him she wore nothing underneath.

  It must be my birthday, he thought with an inner smile as Cami set the tray down in front of him and took a seat on his other side.

  “So,” Cami stated matter-of-factly as she palmed the remote. “Rules for Buffy-thon. You can talk when we do, but you can’t get offended if we hush you. We only do it so you don’t miss out on the best lines.”

  “Hmm-hmm.” Ziporah poured Frangelico liqueur and vodka into a shot glass and handed it to him with a wedge of sugared lemon. “Rule number two, every time a vamp bares their fangs, bites someone or gets dusted, we take a shot.” She licked her thumb and grinned at him when she caught him watching her do it.

  “Oh!” Cami added with a bounce, “and let’s also do one every time Giles cleans his glasses.” Ziporah seconded the notion so he guessed that was that.

  “What is this?” he asked, sniffing the nutty smelling drink in his hand.

  “It’s a chocolate cake shot,” Z said.

  “Don’t ask me how lemon and hazelnut make chocolate flavor but it works. Yummy,” Cami piped in as Z handed her the next shot, then made one for herself.

  “Now.” Both girls, loaded with their drinks and fruit, faced him with serious expressions as Z concluded. “Do you understand these rules as they have been explained to you?”

  Evan measured them both in silence. They were playful and cute. He hadn’t expected that. It was refreshing. He had been in the BDSM lifestyle for almost twelve years. That’s a long time. So long that he’d forgotten how to just play with a woman. Since he’d discovered his first club at age twenty-two, all of his sex had been intense structured scenes, with women who only looked him in the eye when given permission and the only time he spent with them was within that scene.

  Refreshing didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling right now; faced with two beautiful and intelligent women who were in the mood to play was like a precious gift.

  He downed the shot while staring at them both, then took his time sucking the lemon and using his teeth to tear the flesh from the rind. He put the peel in his glass and sucked a dollop of sugar off his thumb. “Mmm, delicious.” He sat forward and fixed himself another while they continued to watch his every move. “Let’s do this.”

  They were on their fourth episode–the ladies had graciously decided to start from the beginning so he wouldn’t be lost in story lines and plot twists–and Evan was having a blast. The show was surprisingly witty and well written. But, it was the women who had him so enchanted.

  They laughed and spoke over most of it, shouting out lines with enough gusto to impress a Rocky Horror Picture Show fanatic. They drank like a couple of frat boys, throwing back the shots without hesitation and lining up the next round.

  As the night wore on, they shared tidbits about themselves. Cami was a movie buff and Z had an obsession with romance novels.

  They peppered him with good-natured probing about his life and the work that brought him to New York. He got a kick out of the wide-eyed reaction to his new line of business; all-organic grass-fed cattle. His was the largest ranch in Texas providing steroid-free beef, and he was in New York overseeing the new distribution side of it. “Most of America is content with what they get in the big chain stores. The general population sees organic as just a fad or sales gimmick,” he said with exasperation. “The food industry has been poisoning us for so long, people just accept it and think anyone who questions the need for all of the pesticides and chemicals is just a conspiracy nut.”

  “Not me,” Ziporah said with only a little slur in her voice. “I hate processed, packaged and pre-made garbage food. Homemade is the only way to go.” She tilted her head to the side and added as an afterthought with a little nod, “Although, I don’t always pick organic. It’s not the money, even though it’s more expensive. I get that it is because organic farms aren’t big massive productions and so their costs are higher. I’m cool with that. It’s that there isn’t w
hat I need all of the time. If I’m making eggplant Parmesan and there is no organic eggplant ... well? What can I do?”

  “And organic meat is the hardest to get. Well, not really here in the city any more. It has caught on here. But back home? Almost impossible,” Cami chimed in, leaned into his side and rested her hand on his ribcage. Ah, alcohol, he thought, thank you. She nodded up at him as though encouraging him to agree with her, but his mind had shut off the minute her hands had landed on him. Looking down into her not-so-focused eyes, all he wanted was to kiss her. To keep from doing just that, he looked to the television. “Look, that one’s dusted– time for another round.”

  Ziporah and Cami had driven him crazy for the last hour. About a half hour into the first episode, they had snuggled up to his sides, brushing their breasts against his arms or rubbing their thighs along his. It was making it harder and harder for him to remember that they were new to the scene and this was not a BDSM club, so they were not simply his for the taking. Tonight was supposed to be just what it was, an icebreaker to get them all used to each other. The problem was he didn’t want to stop there; he wanted more.

  The mood was seriously hot. The show wasn’t what had Evan so turned on. No, it was the women who did that. He was watching a campy vampire show full of dead teenagers, for crying out loud and yet, he was rock hard.

  Cami was now snuggled-up under his arm and her thinly covered delicious body was a soft sensual overload of delight against his side. Although Z had started out the night sitting on the far end of the sofa, she was currently sitting so close he could feel the heat flowing from her body to his. He adjusted his position a fraction and ... yes, now his thigh was stretched along hers, and she didn’t edge away. In fact, she leaned in closer and not a force on the planet could have stopped the smile that spread across his face. At this point, any victory, no matter how small, was worth a celebration.