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“Quit?”
‘Yes, as in stop working at a job you hate.”
“I never said I hated my job.”
“Oh? Seems every time I see you, you tell me in more detail.”
“I never do.”
“Your words don’t need to spell it out, Gail. Everything else you do and feel says it clearly. This was never your job. It was Rossi’s.”
“I think you’re taking my whiny self-indulgence too far.”
“Am I? Think about it. What’s going on between you and me isn’t really about responsibility and irresponsibility. It’s not about getting control of your life. It’s about letting it go. That’s what you really want. You love me because I’m the most weird person you know; and you have a dark, nasty, crazy lust that needs me.”
“I don’t dispute that,” I replied; though he hardly needed my response to continue his discourse.
“You’ve been trying to fit yourself into someone else’s shoes for years. That’s not discipline, that’s just stupid.”
If I thought my body was hot before KC arrived, the effect of his lecture was making everything in me burn—my ears, my heart, my crotch, my ass—and especially my throat. I was afraid I would incinerate myself if he laid on another glaring truth.
“You like me because I make things up as I go—that’s exactly what you’re like if you strip away all the bullshit Rossi dumped on you. The only thing he did was point out your dark lust—and he probably just stumbled on that by accident. But other than teaching you how much you like your ass worked, he just tightened the straps of the family straightjacket around you so tightly that you couldn’t breathe no matter what you did.”
“KC, I don’t know,” I tried to get up, but he wasn’t too pleased about that.
“Get back down here,” he jerked my hand and pulled me back to my chair.
“Why haven’t you said this before?”
“Because it wasn’t the time.”
“And it is now?”
“Yes, I’m leaving in two days.”
“In two days!”
“Yes. Two days. What’s wrong with that? Vacation. Or haven’t you heard of that?”
“You could have told me a week ago, two weeks, a month. Why now?”
“Now’s the time. Quit.”
“I can’t quit.”
“Yes, you can. You want to spend the next three months without me?”
“No. But I can’t just up and leave.”
“Yes, you can,” he repeated himself. “Your life’s all wrong, sweetheart. Ass backward. You dumped the good stuff in your relationship with Rossi when you left him—the sex, the spanking, the submission, the stuff that really turns your crank. You settled for structure and form—you had no substance left by the time you fell like a bag of bones on the street in front of me. Quit, Gail.” It was so simple for him.
“I don’t know if I can.”
He seemed to back down just when I probably needed him to go one step more. Having spent his passion, he slipped back to calm. “I think you can. But that is up to you. Why don’t you think about it? Give me a call, or drop by the theatre. I’m leaving Sunday morning.”
“Why so soon? Even if I could go, how am I supposed to inform my bosses now? It’s Friday night.”
“Surely one of them is working late. They’ll be there, won’t they?”
