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Leticia said nothing for a long moment, and then shook her head as though I confounded her. “You’re such a contradiction, Jonah Noble,” she said softly. “You’re capable of expressing the most beautiful, profound ideas one moment, and the next, you’re… you’re a typical man.”
I changed the subject. “Are you hungry?”
Leticia shrugged. “I could eat.”
“There’s a quaint little pizza place on Sixth Street. Do you know it?”
She nodded.
“I feel like pizza,” I said. “It will be my treat.”
* * *
‘Dino’s’ was one of those authentic-looking Italian pizza places that was actually run by a Chinese couple. A red, green and white awning that stretched out over the sidewalk shaded the shop front, and there were empty wine bottles on shelves displayed in the windows.
I pushed open the door and held it for Leticia. A little bell attached to the frame tinkled, and an elderly Chinese gentleman came from a back room. He had an apron tied around his waist and a mouth full of gold teeth. He smiled at me. I smiled at him. He smiled at Leticia, and then we were shown to a booth in a gloomy corner at the back of the restaurant.
The menu was a folded card, wedged upright on the table between the sugar bowl and a ketchup bottle. I handed it to Leticia.
“Your choice,” I said.
She ordered pizza. The restaurant was quiet – it was too late for the long lunch crowd to still be eating, and too early for the after work crowd. We stared out through the windows watching the world go by in a dull haze of smog and noise, until the pizza finally arrived on a wide wooden chopping board.
“What do you like to do in your spare time?” I asked. It wasn’t the most probing question I had ever asked a woman, but it felt a little like we were taking time out.
“I read,” Leticia said. She had a slice of pizza balanced delicately in one hand and a paper napkin in the other. “I like to read recipe books. I love cooking. What about you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t get a lot of spare time,” I said, “but when I do I like to read too. I have an interest in the fighter pilots and planes that flew during the First World War.”
Leticia made a face like she was surprised. “That’s kind of random,” she said.
Was it? I didn’t know.
“My father had a collection of miniature models at the old estate. I brought them with me. They’re in my office,” I explained.
Leticia nodded. “I saw them,” she said. “I just didn’t figure they were of particular importance to you. Why the fascination?”
“I admire the bravery of those men,” I said. “They were called the ‘knights of the air’. They fought to the death in planes made from wood and canvas, but managed to remain chivalrous and honorable in the most grueling of circumstances. Their heroism in the face of impossible adversity is pretty inspirational.”
I heard the bell above the door ring and glanced over my shoulder. A man and a woman with a couple of young children in tow were waiting to be shown to a table. We finished our pizza and I left two twenty dollar bills on the counter.
We walked slowly back through the city, our bodies close but never quite touching. Leticia leaned in to me whenever she spoke, and clutched at my arm as we crossed the street. The sun was setting on the horizon as we stepped in through the front door of her apartment – golden light spilled through the window in a long rectangular patch across the carpet and tinted the color of the walls. Leticia drew the heavy drapes and suddenly everything became gloomy. She switched on a couple of lamps and settled herself back on the sofa.
“Did you ever lose control with Caroline, Jonah?” Leticia asked. “She was clearly a feisty, independent woman. Surely there must have been times when you lost your temper with her.”
“Never.”
“Not even during sex, or when punishing her?”
“Never,” I said again.
Leticia arched a questioning eyebrow.
“Leticia there were certainly times with Caroline where the sex we shared was aggressive – times when I took her for my pleasure and the sex-play was more physical. But it was all an act. It was all part of the scene we were involved in. There is no excuse for a man to become violent with a woman, and even in the most passionate moments with Caroline, she knew that everything happening was part of the moment, not part of my personality.”
“How do you do that? How do you keep your control?”
I had never considered the question. I thought for a moment. “Discipline, I guess. And always remembering that the person you are with is in your care, and is relying on you to keep them safe.”
“So how do you create those tempestuous, lust-filled moments without breaching your commitment to keep the woman you are with safe?”
I looked at Leticia with surprise. “Tempestuous?”
She smiled. “It’s called a vocabulary.”
I smiled back, and started to pace.
“More than anything else, every woman in the world wants to feel desirable, and desired,” I said. “Caroline was no different. She was sexy, she was smart, and she was confident, but she was also a woman, and every woman I have known comes with a suitcase full of insecurities. And although every woman’s suitcase is different, one thing always remains common – they want to know that they are attractive, even if it is only to the man in their life.
“Caroline needed that same reassurance, but it’s a little different in a BDSM relationship. So much of what happens sexually is structured and arranged. For instance I would summon a submissive to kneel before me and suck my cock, or I would order her to remove her panties and bend over the edge of the table, and the woman would dutifully obey my instructions. Punishments, training sessions – everything tends to flow along organized lines.
“I found the best way to demonstrate to Caroline that she was desirable was to throw the rule book out once in a while, and simply act sponta
neously.”
“But not because you felt spontaneous?”
“No. That’s how I always remain in control. I acted spontaneous for Caroline’s sake.”
Leticia wrote everything down, but I could see she didn’t understand. It was like I was explaining English to a foreigner.
“One of my standing rules for submissives is that they are not permitted to wear panties when they are in the house, nor are they permitted to wear a bra. Under their clothes they are to be naked and available, and their pussy must always be shaved,” I explained. “Each Master you speak to will have different rules. Those were some of mine.”
“Can I ask what the reasoning is behind your rules?”
I smiled. “Anticipation,” I said the magic word, “but also because I like my submissives to feel exposed and accessible. Making them go without underwear, gives them the sense that at any moment, their bodies might be used for giving pleasure.”
Leticia bent over her notebook for a moment and I waited patiently until she was paying attention again, ready to go on.
“So whenever Caroline was nearby, she was always available to me. One afternoon I was in my office. The door was open. Caroline had just come back from the local gym. She walked past my door and glanced inside. She saw me at my desk and stopped. She was sweating. Her face was flushed red with exertion, and her skin glistened with a healthy glowing sheen. She lowered her head and stood perfectly still while my eyes roamed over her body. She was wearing a sports bra under her top and those tight black leotard things women wear when they work out. The clothes hugged her figure like a second skin.
“I asked her where she was going. She told me she needed to shower. I told her to be quick. I had use for her.
“I heard Caroline heading down the hall, and then a few moments later I heard the hiss of the shower. I waited five minutes and then got up from my desk – the work could wait. I went to the bathroom and pushed open the door. Clouds of steam swirled in the air. I pushed the door closed behind me. Behind the translucent glass of the shower stall I could see Caroline as a blurred silhouette.
