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“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“You don’t strike me as a man that asks for much. Yet you’ve gone out of your way to make sure I’m comfortable.”
He looked at me like I’d just took a hammer to a mirror and shattered his prized possession.
“The other women were all masochists.”
“They enjoyed pain?”
“Yes, they took pleasure in it.”
“I liked the spanking,” I restated, hoping he believed me this time. “And you’re intense, but never too rough with me, and you don’t scare me or hurt me.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I don’t understand why. Why are they masochists and I’m not? You worry about me, but not them? Do you think I’m weak and can’t handle things?” That was the exact opposite of what I was going for. I wanted to show Jack, and myself, I was more. That I didn’t need constant worry. “I’ve enjoyed everything we’ve done.”
“Every woman I’ve been with, I’ve found based on their self-proclamation of being passive and masochistic. It’s a lifestyle they live and breathe. You are not a part of that lifestyle. You like a spanking, but there’s way more to it than that.”
I swallowed hard. “So, if this is a lifestyle, and they enjoy receiving pain, does that mean you enjoy inflicting it?” My voice was soft, and I held my breath awaiting his answer.
He stared at me for a long moment.
“Good-bye, Lana.”
He pulled away, opened the door, and walked out.
“Wait!” I went after him. “You can’t just cut me out like that.”
He spun on his heel, kissed me quickly, then went back to walking away. There was pain behind his movements, his eyes. He opened his car door.
“I’m standing right in front of you, just trying to understand. I wouldn’t judge you.”
He shook his head. “Of course you wouldn’t. Because you’re better than that.” He wasn’t condescending, actually, he sounded wounded.
“Please,” I said, as he sat in the driver seat and shut the door. His window was down, and I bent to face him. “Please don’t leave.”
“I need to.”
He reversed, pulled out on the road, and left within seconds. The walls around Jack were chipping, but the more pieces that fell, the more he pulled away. I was walking a fine line between understanding him and shoving him away.
I had no idea how to help. How to feel. How to reach him. But there I stood, standing and watching him drive away. While I waited. Wa
ited for an answer that may never come, and a man that may never return.
~
“God damn it!” Harper yelled at the TV. “Top of the eighth inning and our pitcher gives up a home run.” She huffed, and sat back on the couch. She got heated whenever watching baseball.
After Jack left, Harper came home and started dinner, while I did some chores around the house. It was nice to be in the same room with my best friend, relaxing with no agenda, and enjoying the evening.
Yet, my mind drifted to the conversation I’d had with Jack.
I’d asked him if he enjoyed inflicting pain, and he didn’t answer. The look on his face was one of disgust. Disgust with himself? The women he’d been with? Me? I had no idea. But if he liked giving pain, what did that mean for us? Because he was right, a spanking and some rough sex was different than some of the stuff I’d spent the past hour Googling.
If he was deep into this kind of lifestyle, what did that make him? A sadist?
If so, could I handle the next step?
