“I see.” A question nagged at the back of my mind, but it was too personal, and I wasn’t sure if we werethereyet.
Phantom leaned against the counter. There went those arm muscles again, flexing as he adjusted. I noticed the Irish freckles peppering the backs of his arms.
“Ophelia,” he said. “Ask the question you want to ask.”
He’s given me permission. I pressed my lips together, debating, but then took him up on his offer. “Do you play with her?”
“No.” I felt relieved by that.
But then he added: “I don’t live with my submissives. Wouldn’t want to blur those lines.”
“Ah.” Another line in the sand. It was a funny game of chess Phantom and I were playing. Every time I moved forward, he moved back.
He motioned to the door. “Should we get started?”
“Yes.” Goddess, yes. Please, yes.
He led me out of the kitchen. I glanced longingly up the stairs, where the bench was, and the ropes, and all those devious, fun toys he tortured me with last night.
“Ophelia. Over here.”
To my disappointment, we didn’t go upstairs. Instead, he guided me through the library. “Stay here,” he told me. “Just a moment.”
He vanished into the adjoining room. I explored the library in the meantime. I ran my fingers across the book spines. Medical tomes. Hardback mysteries. There was a chess table in here. I pictured him and Princess sitting down here late at night, frowning over pawn pieces, and the image was oddly warming.
I found a small picture propped up against the bookshelf and I took it down to get a better look at it. The photo was taken on a beach—Coney Island, maybe. There was a beautiful, dark haired woman with a pursed-lip smile standing next to a teenage version of Phantom. I only recognized him for the dark birthmark on his cheek. He was a lanky, awkward looking kid, a shy giraffe hunching over so he could fit in the frame. They both looked a bit like vampires forced into the sunshine, trying their best to pretend they were enjoying the day.
I couldn’t help but smile at the picture.
“Ophelia. Come.”
He called my name, pulling my attention. I obeyed, my feet leading me through the library. We were in the room we’d visited the other night, where people were snuggled up in little cuddle piles. Except the room had been transformed. There was a single spot on the floor with a yoga mat stretched out. Pillows at the head of the mat. A blanket. Light music playing—some kind of jazz.
But most impressive were the candles. There were little pillars of light flickering everywhere. Did he set this up for me?
“Wow,” I said. “We’re either about to do yoga or engage in ritualistic slaughter.”
The edges of his eyes crinkled. “Why can’t it be both?”
Oh, Phantom hadjokesthis morning.
Phantom sat on the floor. He patted his lap. “Clothes off. You can leave your bra and panties on. Lay down on your back.”
I stripped off my clothes and got on the floor in front of him. I found I wasmorecomfortable half-naked around him. He tossed a cozy blanket over me I settled down with my head in Phantom’s lap.
“Can I touch your hair?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He gently tucked my hair back, away from my face. “Checking in.” His voice went low. “How are you feeling in your body today?”
“Normal, I guess.”
His fingers slid underneath my skull. He found the space between my jawbone and ears and pressed in lightly. I didn’t realize I was clenching until he unlocked me.
“Is your body always in fight or flight, Ophelia?”
“Sometimes it obeys the third f.Fuck.”
