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I went back to my apartment, showered, and changed. Drank some water. Just a normal Saturday for a single working girl.
Your move, Samantha. I’ll be waiting.
I put the glass of water down on the counter and took a breath. It was like Aidan was standing right there, saying it in my ear. My body flushed hot.
This had been happening ever since the scene in his office. I would be going about my life as normal, and then suddenly I’d be hot and aching, thinking about those words. I’d wake up thinking about them, my sheets twisted over my legs. I fell asleep thinking about them, too.
Aidan was as good as his word. He hadn’t contacted me about anything other than the most mundane work issues. We hadn’t been alone together. He hadn’t texted me instructions for the next round of the game. Because, as he’d promised, the next round of the game was up to me.
You don’t need the game. You never have. You just need to let go.
I was a coward. I knew that. I was pretending life was normal, that I hadn’t played a wild and filthy game with my boss. I was pretending that it hadn’t changed me, that it wasn’t still changing me. My life wasn’t normal while I was thinking about Aidan saying those words. It would never be normal until I had the guts to take the next step.
I sat down at my kitchen counter and my gaze caught on the erotic novel I’d bought. One Night with the Devil. The woman’s hands on the cover, bound in red ribbon. I’d read the book multiple times by now—I could recite some of the passages by heart. It wasn’t that I had a kink for being tied up and bound, though I knew some people did. What kept me coming back to the book was the boldness and fearlessness of it, of the heroine who craved pleasure and went after it with an incredibly hot man. I don’t care if it’s one night or forever, she tells him at one point. I don’t care if you keep me or you throw me away. I just want you to take me. Right now, in every way you desire. Take me.
I had done that, been that way, with Aidan. During the game. I wasn’t finished playing yet.
You don’t need the game. You just need to let go.
I picked up my phone, and before I could lose my courage, I texted Aidan: Where are you right now?
His reply was typical Aidan, mysterious and sexy. Does it matter? Now I’m talking to you.
I swallowed, my throat dry. I should probably call him and talk about this in person, but my guts only took me so far. Besides, I didn’t want to punctuate this with um and uh like a nervous idiot. I thought about Nadia, the heroine of One Night with the Devil. I thought of Sarah, the financial CEO I’d been in the first round of our game. She’d been sexy and proud of it, and I’d liked being her. I decided to channel her now.
I texted: Are you still waiting for my signal?
His reply was immediate: Always.
I smiled to myself. I’ll think about it, I wrote, but if we’re going to renegotiate the game, I have conditions.
The dots moved. Name them.
He was playing. I knew that—this was a different version of the game. But there was something raw and honest about it, too. I knew that right now, while not playing a role, Aidan would do anything I wanted.
I leaned back in my chair and sipped my water. One of my favorite things about working for Tower VC, I wrote, is the health plan.
Aidan: Is that so?
Me: Yes. The prescription coverage is particularly generous. It’s excellent for staying on birth control.
There was a second of silence, and then the dots moved again. Samantha, you are playing with fire.
Of course, I wrote, for me to consider any man, he’d have to have a clean bill of health. And I would provide the same.
Aidan: Hold that thought.
I waited one minute, then two. I sipped my water. I was starting to get restless when my phone chimed again, this time with an email. I opened it and read it in shock.
Aidan had sent me exactly what I asked for—his clean bill of health, sent from his doctor. I scanned over the document and saw it was dated the day after we’d met at the art gallery. The last time we’d had sex with a condom.
He’d gone to the doctor the next day, because he’d planned this.
I opened my text app again.
Me: Do you always get what you want?
Aidan: Your turn.
