I resisted the impulse to tell him to do what came naturally. I wasn’t sure that any part of human interaction came naturally to Ivan. Instead, I enjoyed the attention for a few moments before taking the conversation in a different direction.
“How did you start this? Not tonight, I mean this whole thing. Kinkiness or whatever you call it.”
Ivan’s hand stilled for a moment, then continued its exploration of my chin and throat. “My college roommate, a random assignment. He was very into the leather scene. He was convinced I was gay too, since I hadn’t ever done anything with a girl, so he was always trying to introduce me to single guys. One of them was somebody he knew from a BDSM club. A Dominant, Marco. He wasn’t thrilled with Kevin’s attempt to set him up by luring him to a bar and then pretending to casually run into me there. Kevin got embarrassed and fled the scene, but Marco stayed to talk. I found him strangely easy to talk to.”
“That would be strange.” I didn’t know that Ivan ever talked to anybody easily. “He didn’t try to pick you up?”
“No, we just talked. In his day job he’s a therapist. I wound up telling him some things about myself I hadn’t ever articulated before. About why I hadn’t dated, or done anything else. He suggested I try a venue where people were more open-minded and communicative about sex, and the roles might be a little easier to understand. I tried it, because I was desperate. And it turned out to be right for me.”
He had dragged his fingers down to my shoulder, and now he gently pressed me up and over until I was lying on my back.
“Because you get to be the one in control?”
“That’s part of it. But the expectations are also clearer to me. People at the club usually negotiate what they want and don’t want in plain language. There’s rarely a hidden agenda. Sometimes people even flag their preferences with different colors so you know what they’re into before you even talk to them. And the science of it also appeals to me, like I said.”
To punctuate that point, he gave my nipple a sharp unexpected tweak and then, before my squeak of surprise could fade, leaned in and swiped his tongue gently over and around the offended area. The pain faded but the sensitized nerve endings soaked in that contact and translated the wet heat to pure ecstasy, a thrill that traveled down my torso to nudge at my clit. More sex magic. He was right, it was appealing. Fascinating, in fact, to see what my own body could do given the right stimulus.
“Do you like having that stuff done to you, too?”
“I’ve tried it, but no,” he said flatly. “Not at all.”
“Good, because I don’t think I could be a Dominatrix. That’s the word, right?”
He shrugged. “Or just Domme. And no, I can’t really see you in that role either. Cami, what are we supposed to do now? Do we go to sleep? Do you go home?”
I would have preferred a passionate insistence that I stay, but I couldn’t help smiling at Ivan’s cluelessness. “Do you want me to go home?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I want you here. And it would be more convenient if we wanted to have sex again later. But I don’t know if I can sleep with another person in the bed.”
Fortunately I knew Ivan well enough not to be hurt by this. “Let’s think of it this way. Because really, I could go either way. If you were over at my place right now, would you go home at this point?”
A little smile played around the corners of his mouth. “If I were at your place right now and trying to do this, I’d probably be in the middle of a panic attack.”
Ouch. “Ivan, it’s not really the done thing to tell a woman you’ve just slept with that sex with her would bring on a panic attack.”
“Oh. Sorry. I meant because the setting would be so strange for me, to be doing that activity. I think I’d feel too uneasy. Here at least I’ve fantasized about those things, and all my equipment is here. So it’s not quite so hard to equate this setting with sex.”
“There’s equipment?”
He chuckled. “Out of all that weirdness I said, that was what you ask about?”
“Honestly, I’m mostly only staring at your mouth while you talk. I’m too blissed out to really comprehend much of anything right now.” I rolled to face him and patted his cheek softly, then ran my fingers into his hair. It was thick and silky, and slightly wavy from the humidity. Good hair for running fingers through. The dark brown looked almost black in the filtered streetlight glow. “That was a joke, by the way. Not the bliss part, the comprehension part. I was paying attention, but I wasn’t sure what to say.”
“I got that one. But thanks.”
“Do you want to do this again sometime?”
He nodded solemnly. “I want to do this again all the time. We should quit our jobs and stay home and do this until we can’t move.”
“Tempting. For now I think I’ll head back to my place so you can sleep, and I can take a shower. We can see each other tomorrow, because, you know, we’re next-door neighbors. Plus we’ll both be in the backyard at nine, gardening.”
He walked me to my door and kissed me goodnight, like a regular date. Only the kiss went on for a lot longer than that, and involved some naughty suggestions murmured in my ear, many of them including fancy Latin terms.
* * *
I’d turned the ringer off on my cell phone during the car ride home the previous evening, because I knew Athena would be calling to hound me for details about why Ivan had been so affectionate at dinner. When I looked at my phone in the morning, I decided I’d been smart to do so. She’d called twice and texted about five times since then, although the last few looked like drunk texts so those really didn’t count. I called her back once I’d poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Details,” was all she said when she picked up the phone.
“Do you want gory particulars or do you want a sketch?”
“You have gory particulars? Oh congratulations, sweetie! You broke the dry spell!”
“Oh, yes.” I blew over the surface of my coffee, but it was still too hot to drink.
“So did the dress from the other night have a delayed reaction?”
I could hear her banging around the kitchen, or at least it sounded like the clatter of pots and pans. “Actually, yeah, it kind of did. Apparently he found it very distracting indeed.”
“So? How was it? I can’t believe you did it with Ivan. I mean I know you’ve wanted to jump him for months, but still. Eh, different strokes, I guess. I shouldn’t judge.”
“It was…” How to even begin to describe last night? I had more lurid details than I would ever share with Athena. I couldn’t even imagine her reaction if I gave her the full story of what had happened. For all her talk, she was basically a wholesome sort. Not that I thought of what Ivan and I had done as unwholesome. But it was certainly… “Interesting. It was interesting.”
“Oooh. Oh, Cami. I’m so sorry. Ugh, and you have him right next door, too. Are you—”
“No, no, not interesting like code word for bad. Actually interesting. It was very good. Very. Very, very good. Let’s be clear on that. Did I mention good? Because you have no idea.”
Athena took a few seconds to digest that. “Okay. So interesting how, exactly?”
She sounded as dubious about asking as I did about telling. “Well, you know how I was assuming he had no experience with sex?”
“Yyyyesss…” Dubiouser and dubiouser.
“I could not have been more wrong about that. And last night I learned a thing or two. Or five. Dozen. Because he schooled me. He schooled me good. And any more detailed than that would be way too much information. Sorry.”
“Holy shit.”
I sipped my beverage, imagining I could feel the caffeine going to work in my system. “Athena, I could not agree more.”
* * *
Often in a new relationship there was that “Lost Weekend” period, the time when you first started having sex and couldn’t get enough of one another. Time seemed to disappear when you were rolling around
in bed, and there was a lot of falling asleep on the job after too many late nights of not being able to say goodbye without hopping right back in the sack. Or at least that was what had happened to me with the only two semi-serious long-term relationships I’d had.
I wasn’t expecting that sort of a weekend with Ivan. In truth, I wasn’t sure what the hell to expect. I only knew I was in trouble because I’d found his awkward attempts at afterglow cuddling to be very sweet and endearing. Either he was genuinely lost in the woods or he had the best clueless-guy con in the world going on. So I approached the backyard at gardening time with a little trepidation.
What I got was a reprieve. Dinesh and Julia were down there too, trying to assemble a new barbecue grill. A few of us had the small, cheap kind of grill you tend to have when you live in apartments. This was the real thing, a big black monster of a barbecue. It had a lot of pieces.
“We’re planning to cook for anyone who wants it tonight,” Dinesh informed me cheerfully, “if we can just figure out how to put the damn thing together.”
Julia gave me a wave, then frowned back down at the parts strewn in front of them, wiping her forearm over her face. It was already heating up. Her dark auburn hair, skimmed back into a pony tail, was frizzing a little around her face where a few wisps had stolen free. I resented the fact that she looked no less beautiful with the frizz. “I still need to go to the grocery store.”
“I can get this,” her husband assured her. “Go. It’ll be done when you get back, babe.”
They kissed, a light brush of the lips as she bent down for a moment. “Text me if you think of anything else we need, okay?” I felt a pang of envy at the casual exchange. Ivan, tending his tomatoes, seemed oblivious to the whole thing. And, aside from a nod when I’d first stepped outside, oblivious to me as well.
Once Julia was gone, Dinesh growled and shook a socket wrench at the sky. “Why do I get myself into these things? Why, why?”
“I did wonder.” I took the wrench from him, before Dinesh could damage anything with it. He had his strengths, but it was generally conceded that being handy was not one of them. He could have rendered a beautiful three-dimensional model of the grill on his computer in no time, but the odds were slim he could assemble the real thing well enough for it to be useable for cooking. Neither of us was all that surprised when Ivan, brushing soil off his hands, reached out calmly for the tool and scooped up the instruction sheet.
Without saying a word he spent a few seconds perusing the instructions, a few more seconds scanning all the tools and parts, and then set to work. Within ten or fifteen minutes, the completed grill stood before us, ready for its debut that evening. After the initial glance, he’d set the instructions aside and never looked at them again.
“Country boy skill set,” he said by way of explanation, when he had tightened the final bolt and put the last tool back in the box Dinesh had brought out.
Dinesh nodded and shrugged philosophically. “You’ll get the first burger. Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome,” Ivan said gravely, then smiled just a bit. “If you need any tomatoes, let me know. I have a few ripe ones.” He made a stiff gesture over his shoulder at his plants, each of which sported at least a couple of fat, gorgeous fruits that practically begged to be picked.
“Yeah, what are you doing with all of the tomatoes, anyway?” Dinesh asked. “Julia said you don’t eat them.”
“It’s an experiment. I’m gathering empirical data to demonstrate that my father’s method of growing tomatoes is less effective than it could be.”
I hadn’t heard the actual nature of the experiment before. “But why? I mean, if you don’t like them, why do you care?”
Ivan looked at me like he didn’t quite understand the question. “Because I think his reasoning is flawed. Or clouded, more accurately, by his insistence on adhering to traditional methods when the upside-down method is demonstrably superior on several key indicators including water usage, insect management, fertilizer requirements and—”
“Hey, thanks for the help, bro, but I need to get upstairs and start working on this shindig. See you later!” Dinesh vacated the patio like a man running from a burning building, leaving me and Ivan alone between the barbecue and the tomato plants.
“I thought he’d never leave,” Ivan said, and took my face in his hands. I was expecting him to kiss me but he didn’t. Instead, he stood and stared at my face like he was drinking me in. His eyes had golden flecks in the iris near his pupils, I noticed for the first time. His nostrils were flaring. He traced my cheekbones with his thumbs, seeming fascinated by the texture. “Camilla.”
“Professor. What were you planning to do with all the tomatoes after the experiment, by the way? Before I claimed them, that is.”
“Take them to a soup kitchen. I know somebody who volunteers at one. One of my old roommates.”
“Not the same roommate who—”
“Yes, that one. Will you come upstairs with me?” He seemed not just hesitant about asking, but actively uneasy, and I wasn’t sure what answer he wanted to hear. I was pretty sure about the answer I wanted to give, however.
“Of course.”
His eyes shifted over to his plants. But then his fingers moved over my skin again, weaving into my hair, and he turned back to me, looking perplexed and frustrated. And like a light bulb going on over my head, I realized both the problem and the solution.
“But, Ivan, you should probably finish taking care of your tomatoes first. And I need to deadhead a few roses. And then we can go up, okay?”
The sheer relief on his face was equally gratifying and worrisome. Gratifying to know I’d gotten it right in one shot. Worrisome to know that he was really that bound by his routine, and by all the compartmentalizing he did to minimize his exposure to the unknown. Almost as though his entire life was one big coping strategy. I really wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.
* * *
I’m shallow and easily distracted by novelty, so all my concerns about Ivan’s elaborate coping mechanisms vanished within sixty seconds of entering his bedroom. His transformation when we entered that room was dramatic. From slightly disheveled fellow gardener to the Professor in one easy step. Not the astrophysics-lecturing Professor, but the one I’d met the night before. The one who could lecture me about kinky stuff any time.
“Strip,” he said curtly when the door was closed behind us. “That was your last reminder. The next time you neglect to remove your clothes upon entering this room there will be consequences, Camilla.” He moved past me to the bed, sweeping the duvet off and bundling it into the chair before returning to stand in front of me.
“Is that right, Professor?” I couldn’t shift gears as quickly as Ivan could. Possibly because this was still all new to me. My hands shook a little as I pulled my T-shirt off and started on my bra.
“Yes.” His smile was made entirely of wickedness. “Swift and unpleasant consequences.”
A shiver ran down my spine, half lust and half the kind of fear a horror movie generated. You knew it was coming, you knew it wouldn’t hurt you, but it scared you a little anyway and that was exactly what you were there for.
When my clothes were shucked off into a pile by my feet, Ivan stepped in closer and once again framed my face with his hands. “I think I’d like to keep you here all day, Camilla. Do you have any pressing obligations?”
He was close enough that my nipples brushed against his shirt, making me even more aware that he was still wearing all his clothes while I was naked as a jaybird. Or nekkid, as we said in Texas, which meant you were naked and up to no good.
“No, Professor. Except to please you.”
“Somebody’s been reading up. Did you go on the internet last night when you got home?” He didn’t sound too perturbed about that.
“I might have done a little light reading, Sir.”
He tugged his T-shirt off, but left his shorts on. “I may assign you some reading too. I’ll have t
o think of a few selections. But that will be later. For now, I have other priorities.”
After brushing a faint promise of a kiss against my lips, he stepped away and disappeared into his closet for a few moments, returning with one hand full of black webbed nylon strapping. He must have seen my eyes widen in alarm, because he grinned and shook his head.
“If you’re scared of tethers and Velcro cuffs, remind me to wait a long time before I take you to the club.”
“What are you planning to do with those?”
“About what you might expect.” He slung the straps onto the bed and patted the sheet encouragingly. “Come here.”
When I hesitated, biting my lip, his eyes grew stern and he approached me bearing a set of the cuffs. “Camilla, go to the bed now or you’re going over my knee.”
That didn’t really help me with my decision. But after a few seconds I flipped a mental coin and complied. “Yes, Professor.”
He put me on all fours in the middle of the bed, cuffing my wrists and ankles and tethering me to the head and footboard with some slack. I could see the versatility, because there was still enough play in the tethers to allow me to lie face up or down, or in any number of positions. But not quite enough for me to wriggle completely off the bed, or use one hand to free the other. When I was all secured there, trembling a little from nerves and excitement, Ivan knelt on the bed beside me and slipped a mask over my head, carefully shifting my hair to accommodate the strap as he settled the black silk blind on my nose. It was heavy and blocked the light completely. I swallowed hard and tried to focus on breathing slowly, calmly.
“The lesson for today,” Ivan murmured in my ear, “is about trust.”
“Okay. I trust you, Professor.” I meant to sound a little less anxious as I said it.
“It goes both ways, Camilla.” He started touching me, hands running over my shoulders and back, reaching under me to cup a breast or tweak a nipple. Those hands kept busy as he spoke, and I never knew where to expect them next. “You trust me not to hurt you while you’re tied up, at least not in a way we haven’t agreed on. I trust you to give me everything you can, everything I ask for, and be honest about your limits. And of course you also trust me to reward you if you comply. If you’re good.” One hand slipped between my legs, tracing up and down one inner thigh in a slow, torturous tease. “If you’re bad, on the other hand, you trust me to rein you in. Which are you going to be today, Camilla? A bad girl, or a good girl?”
The Theory of Attraction Page 8