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***
Gemma kept up a good pace on the treadmill, accompanied by the high volume on her iPod ear buds. The workout calmed her nerves and focused her thoughts. She had succeeded up to a point and now felt ready to bring her inner befuddled state to a necessary conclusion.
Catching sight of her husband, she switched off the treadmill and wiped her face with her sweat towel. A trickle of perspiration slipped between her breasts. Her Lycra shorts hugged her thighs, and a sheen of warmth covered her sticky face.
“Hi,” she said, pulling out her ear pieces. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Dressed in his cut-off jeans and a black vest, she found him to be very casual and youthful in appearance. Sexy, too. Every so often, he threw off the mantel of executive and became the playboy illusion she fantasised about.
“Didn’t think this was your favourite room.” He leant on the control panel of the treadmill and traced his finger over the selection buttons.
“All this lounging around and rich food. I’m getting flabby.” She patted her tummy.
“I’m not working you out enough?” He chuckled.
“Certain muscles are very well exercised. My lungs and heart need a steady, fast beat to improve my aerobic capacity. Your workouts are somewhat irregular in pace,” she explained.
“I see. I think you’re hiding from me.” He took her hand. She stepped off the rubber platform, and he drew her to him, pressing his chest against her, his hips, too. “Well?”
She kept her hands to her sides, refusing to participate in the cuddle. “Perhaps.”
She didn’t want this. She wanted to talk, not have sex. “Jason. Can we talk? I mean if I said I wanted to take a break, could we?” She slipped out of his hands, stepping backwards.
“A red kind of break?” His amused expression remained unchanged.
“Yes, I suppose. I want to chat to you, candidly.”
“Sure, darling. Here?”
“No. Let me shower first. I’m sticky and hot. What I want to talk to you about, I don’t think I should be sticky and hot. Under the canopy, with the sea breeze.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for you there.” He glanced a kiss at her cheek and left the gym.
***
They lay side by side on the lounger, staring up at the underside of the white canopy. Her hair lay wet and damp under her head. She had dressed in a long dress—a protective cladding about her body. A sense of foreboding filled her, not fear or dread, more uneasiness.
“Tell me, Jason, tell me what you mean by sharing me. Or not, as the case may be.”
“Time for definitions, is it?”
“Please, don’t mock me. I don’t want to put myself in the predicament of abusing your undeclared rules through ignorance or misinterpretation. You’re a lawyer and very precise with your words. I need to know how precise,” she bit out.
“Sharing what I own, what I possess, is my decision. Not yours. I won’t let you have sex with other Doms, or any man for that matter. It is adultery. Women are, for me, a different matter. You’re not a lesbian. You won’t develop a relationship with a woman that involves loving, romantic intercourse of your own volition. However, it does not stop you from being sexually aroused by another submissive.”
“So, my taking erotic pleasure of a woman is all right?”
Jason pursed his lips and then nodded. “As long as I’m present and it is my pleasure that you do so.”
“You’re saying, you don’t have a problem with me being touched or used by another woman as long as you’re present, give permission, and I consent.”
“More specific than that. I’m in control. I direct and instruct. I have never said I have an issue with you being with others submissives. Consenting submissives. You have always said you are uncomfortable with having sex with women. I respect that limit and will not force or ask you to if you do not give me your consent.”
“Topping. I’m forbidden to top you. If there is another sub present, a participating, consenting sub, would one of us be topping, telling the other what to do?”
“I am the Dominant, the Top. You and any other submissive are my bottoms. If I’m controlling you both, then neither of you would be topping me or each other. You can work it out for yourself.”
Gemma took a deep breath. “I think I’m becoming open to the idea of being with a woman. I’m not sure how far I want to go with the notion of bisexuality. Touched, maybe. Penetrated, I honestly don’t know. I don’t want to be anything other than a submissive, a bottom. Your submissive. Is this a shock to you? Or am I right in thinking your little game of sensual treatments and massages were designed to manipulate me into becoming bi-curious.” She folded her arms across her chest, adopting a firm, slightly peeved stance.
