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“You deserved that.” I pointed out.
“I know, I know. But CNC is not simple. It’s way too easy to screw up. What about a dry run?”
“Ha!” I opened my mouth to add to that, and she frowned.
“Miss Emme, do not make a pun about that. Or else.”
“Mouth zipped.” I opened my hands. “Keep going.”
“Do it at the club.”
“Like a take-down scene, where people watch us perform on stage?” I wrinkled my nose. “Too public. Too rehearsed. Too…temporary. Not even vaguely edgy enough.”
“Yawnworthy? Really?”
“I want the edgeplay. Zero of my kinky buttons would be pressed.”
“Fiiine. Forward me everything I don’t yet know—the safeword and everything. I know his name and address.”
“I will. And stop worrying.” Even though, deep inside, I was worried. “I asked you to ask him.”
“I know.” She pushed aside her shake and slowly drummed her fingers on the table.
“It is sensible. I know it is and thank you for caring. But, somehow, it is the danger in this that I crave. I don’t quite understand myself or my sexual fantasies.”
“Hmm.” One of Charity’s eyebrows quirked upward. “I’m sorry but you need someone to be the voice of reason.”
“I get it. I do.”
“Let’s go get you abducted then?”
I repressed a giggle and nodded. “Think of me as a skydiver who wants to freefall for a while before I return to earth.”
I picked up the phone and checked to make sure I hadn’t missed him texting me anything, like a cancellation. He hadn’t. I tapped out a new message to double check he was willing and able, then I sent Charity the info.
“Done. There is no safeword, though.” I ignored her tsk. “We have a word for when he grabs me, so I know who he is. If it isn’t said, I’m running and screaming.”
Charity nodded. “That is…” I could see the wheels spinning as she stopped herself from saying something. “Good.”
Having no safeword was iffy at best, but I was aiming for RACK here—risk aware consensual kink.
I dropped my cell phone into my coat pocket.
“I’m following you until I see you’ve been ummm grabbed. It’s nighttime, and we want the right weirdo, right?” Her grin spread.
“Yeah.” My heartbeat did an unsettling kick. Getting grabbed by the wrong guy would be disastrous. “But if you’re there, doesn’t that put you at risk after I’m gone?”
My phone buzzed, and I missed seeing her reaction. The text said he was still game. I slid from the seat. “I’ll get another coffee. He’s running late.”
Was this weird? Not according to the news. Most days the world was either heading for an ice age, or everyone was slaughtering their neighbors, or they had invested in a new Ponzi scheme based on something new and shiny.
With my hand trailing off the edge of the table, I paused and took a deep breath. “I promise that after I do this—a week alone with a man who has permission to do whatever he wants to me—I’ll be done with anything this extreme.”
Charity grunted and pursed her mouth, doubt on every line of her face.
A week of hot, off-the-charts dirty sex and kink? A week and then I returned to teaching at Monarte Christian College, where being a good girl meant only having sex within a heterosexual marriage. Their morality clause sucked, but I did love the job.
“Cross my heart, touch wood, and all that.” I reached across and squeezed her hand.
