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I nodded, trying to stay calm while a surge of jealousy went through me despite my best efforts. Drake pulled on a white dress shirt and dark tie. I thought Drake had only been with submissives after his divorce and entrée into the world of kink. I played with the collar on Drake's shirt, straightening the tie knot. "So you broke up."
"There was nothing really to break. It was only a few times."
"How many is a few? Twice? Three times?"
He shook his head. "I can't remember exactly. I was here for almost two months. Maybe a dozen times." He finished fastening his cuffs and then focused on me, a frown on his brow. "There was nothing other than sexual release for me, Kate. She's not my type and was very upset at the thought I was into D/s."
"You must have liked something about her. I thought you only had submissives."
"I do, I did only have submissives. She was here when I was here, and well, it was just opportunity…"
"Did she feel that way? That it was just opportunity?"
He shrugged. "She wasn't happy when I left without continuing the relationship," he said. "She thought she'd be enough to tempt me to give up my kinky ways. She wasn't. End of story."
"You're not very kinky, Master D. She must be pretty vanilla."
"She's pretty dominant herself. We clashed."
"Not enough to keep you out of each others arms."
"Too much to keep me with her."
I exhaled. "Did Michael know about you two? Does he know about you being part of the lifestyle?"
"We tried to keep it private because I was in a supervisory role, even though I was only here for two months." Drake paused for a moment, frowning. "I don't think Michael knows about my lifestyle. I want it to stay that way, Kate. It's not that I think it would matter. It's not something I want getting around."
"Of course," I said. "I know that better than anyone. But she knows…"
"Look," Drake said and took hold of my shoulders. " That was a couple of years ago, before my father died. I've moved on. She's moved on and so there's nothing to be concerned about."
"It sounds like she came back to study with you."
"She came back to study with Michael. He's the one who specializes in pediatrics. Let's forget about her and what happened and enjoy ourselves."
"I'm sorry." I held up my hand and forced a smile, swallowing my jealousy, trying to be a grownup about it. "You don't have to say anything more. I was surprised, that's all."
He shook his head. "You have nothing to worry about. Like I said it was just sex. Plain old vanilla sex out of convenience."
He bent down and kissed me again and despite everything, a sense of gloom settled over me. He'd be working with a woman he had once been sexually involved with. I couldn't imagine that it would be a good thing that Drake would be her teacher but I had to trust him. He loved me...
We went out to join Claire and Michael.
The drive to the college was an event in itself.
"Hang on," Michael said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "This could be extra fun."
Drake took my hand and smiled. "You haven't lived until you've survived driving in Nairobi."
"Oh, God," I said, biting my bottom lip. I glanced out the window at the cars beside us. "I'm used to Manhattan traffic."
"Don't worry." Claire turned to face us from the front seat. "Michael's an expert. He's been driving in Nairobi most of his life and took his driver's license here so he knows the roads, the traffic and how to deal with the idiots."
I nodded, my body tense. Around us, the traffic was heavy, the other drivers variously hooting, honking and flashing their lights at us and everyone else on the road, overtaking our Mercedes on the roundabouts, and generally making rude gestures at each other. It felt like we were in a video game. I doubted anyone obeyed the rules of the road, such as they were.
We arrived at the Aga Khan University Medical College faculty club where the mixer was being held. When we arrived, the party was in full-swing, with a dozen or so bright faced medical students standing around with drinks in hand. The students were of all nationalities and cultures, some dressed in traditional costumes, bright and colorful, or typical European clothing off the rack.
Drake had changed into his deep grey suit, white shirt and black tie. His hair was freshly washed and was a bit wild, long below his collar. Although his eyes were bleary, he looked amazing, as usual – as if he stepped out of a GQ cover shoot instead of having arrived at the hotel an hour earlier, following fifteen hours of international flights. A few days worth of scruff covered his oh-so-square jaw.
