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“He was a businessman.”
“What kind of business?”
I can’t decide if she’s being conversational or just plain nosy. I wonder how she’d do if we had a session in which she could only talk if I give her permission. That might be kinda fun. Or maybe I’d help her out by stuffing a ball gag in her mouth.
“International,” I reply.
“International business doing what?”
Definitely a gag. I have a muzzle, too, that covers the whole lower face, but she’d look prettier in a ball gag.
“Why are you that interested?” I throw back at her, even though talking about business is pretty harmless. I don’t, however, want her to ask about how he died. Of course, I would make shit up instead of telling her the truth, that he was killed by a fellow inmate while serving time at the United States Penitentiary in Victorville.
She seems a little taken aback. “I’m sorry. We can talk about something else.”
Shit. I probably came off defensive.
“My dad wasn’t around a lot because of his job,” I explain, “so it’s not my favorite topic.”
That kind of emotional stuff always has an impact on women. Sure enough, Bridget gives me a look of understanding.
“So what do you want to talk about?” she asks.
Whether you would be up for trying a spider gag instead of a ball gag.
Fuck me. I need a play session more badly than I thought.
“Do we have to talk about anything?” I return.
“No, we don’t. I guess I take after my grandmother. She liked to talk. So maybe it would work out, her being on the same star with your dad.”
I give a short chuckle at the idea of her grandmother talking my dad’s ear off. But being quiet for my dad was a strategy for learning more about his opponents and people he had to deal with.
She goes back to falling in love with the view and seems perfectly fine with the silence between us. All the women I know would think something was wrong if a man didn’t talk.
To my surprise, I’m the one breaking the silence. “You like it at Cal?”
She perks up. “Of course! What’s not to like? It’s a great campus, it has professors who are world leaders in their fields, there’s such a rich history to the school. I mean, I wish I could get all the classes I wanted and that it cost a lot less, but I feel lucky to be there. What about you? Did you like LA?”
“It was okay,” I reply.
“Just okay?”
“I don’t think I’m much of a college-going guy, so it probably wouldn’t have mattered where I went.”
Glancing back at the party, I spot my cousin and Amy. “Looks like JD’s done giving the tour.”
“Guess we should head back then.”
I watch her take careful steps down from the gazebo and walk awkwardly across the stone path.
“Something wrong with your shoes?” I ask.
“Ugh, they’re not mine,” she answers. “I’d have to be a masochist to buy shoes like these.”
I’m intrigued. “Yeah? So you’re not a masochist?”
She gives me a look that tells me how strange she finds my question. “You know a lot of masochists?”
