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He smiled at me and turned back to the screen.
I tiptoed out and went to the kitchen to fix a cup of hot tea. I was feeling a bit under the weather from the Malarone, the anti-malaria med I was taking, a bit achy and cold. A nice cup of tea would do me wonders. After the kettle boiled, I poured the water over the loose tea leaves and waited for the tea to steep. As I did, I glanced out the kitchen window at the streets below the apartment.
Of course, my mind went back to Dawn and her warning about Drake. Being alone with Drake in Africa had never made me nervous. I'd seen him at work, I'd seen him at play, I'd seen him in social situations and I had been alone with him, tied up and helpless in his apartment on 8th Avenue. I trusted him completely.
It was Dawn I couldn't trust. What she witnessed as a child made her so obsessed with my relationship with Drake, so unwilling to see my point of view. Why couldn't she understand that there was a difference between real abuse and sexual role-playing that was consensual?
I had to get to the bottom of it so I took out my phone and texted her.
Dawn, please meet with me for coffee so we can try to hash out this disagreement between us before I go. We've been friends for so long, you're like the sister I never had. I can't stand that this has come between us.
I sent the text and put my phone in the pocket of my hoodie. I took my tea to the den, where I lay on my favorite overstuffed sofa with a fuzzy throw covering me. The gas fireplace gave off warmth that helped take away the chill that had descended over me.
I switched on the television and flipped between channels searching for something to watch beside the news, waiting for her response. I started watching a movie on PBS – a British period piece on Keats – when my iPhone dinged, indicating I had an incoming text. It was from Dawn.
Let's meet at the coffee shop in Harlem General. I'm on shift all evening, but I can meet you for half an hour before work. But I'm warning you - there's nothing you can say that will make me OK with this thing between you and Morgan. I've been talking with people on FetLife and Kate, these people are sick. Drake's dangerous. I told you that in the pub, and I'll keep saying it. Don't let his pretty exterior and suave ways fool you. He's got a mean streak, as Sunita could tell you.
What? I texted her right back.
It was precisely because Drake didn’t have a 'mean streak' that they broke up. She wanted edge play and for Drake to flog her and cane her and he's not into pain. Dawn, why can't you understand? He's not into pain. Period.
I waited, sitting up straight, my back stiff. Just texting her made me upset. I wasn't looking forward to actually meeting with her.
Whatever he told you, he did flog her and hit her with a cane. I don't know what he told you about edge play, but Sunita said he wanted to do it and she didn't and that's why they broke up. You shouldn't be so quick to trust complete strangers while ignoring your best and oldest friend. If you want to meet with her and talk, hear her side of the story, she'd be willing to meet with you. She left the lifestyle and is now looking for a normal relationship.
I sat up and tried to gain control over my emotions. How could two people tell such a completely different story? Sunita had left the world of BDSM?
Drake had never given me any reason to doubt him. At that point, I wasn't feeling much like going out again, but I had to meet her and try to make her understand. Since the night I saw her after Drake and I fell at 8th Avenue, hitting my head and injuring his arm, Dawn and I hadn't seen each other. As much as Drake made me happy, and despite how much she angered me, I felt this hole in my heart because of my break with Dawn. I had to either resolve things with her or tell her goodbye.
I sighed and texted her back.
I'll meet you before your shift. Try to keep an open mind and consider our friendship. If you really are my friend, you'll accept this no matter what your misgivings are and wish me well, not try to ruin it.
I reached into my bag and found my bottle of Extra-strength Tylenol, took two, and drank the rest of my tea, hoping the pain medication would take away the aches from the Malarone.
Drake arrived back at my father's apartment a while later, waking me up from a nap. He had taken his coat off and was unbuttoning his jacket as he stood over me.
"Sorry to wake you. I tried to be quiet." He reached into a pocket in his jacket and pulled out a silver keychain with two keys. "These are for you. One's for the front door in case the concierge is off, and the other is for the apartment."
"Chelsea?"
He nodded. "There may be days I can't be there before you. Besides, I like it when you wait for me."
I took the keychain and examined it for a moment. The chain had a silver pendant at the end with a K engraved on it.
"Thank you." I slipped the keychain onto the coffee table and stretched, watching him as he removed his jacket, leaving him in his suit pants and crisp white shirt and black tie. He looked amazing, as usual. "I was a bit under the weather earlier. I think it's the Malarone I had this morning."
He sat on the side of the couch and then bent down and kissed my forehead as if taking my temperature.
"Did you take some Tylenol?"
I nodded.
"Feeling better?"
I nodded. Then, he bent back down and kissed me, his mouth covering mine possessively. Of course, the touch of his lips on mine sent a thrill through my body.
"Mmm, I love it when you're all warm and sleepy," he said, smiling. He ran his fingers over the swell of my breast above my sweater. "I want to ravish you every time I see you after we've been apart."
