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She leaned closer to the mirror. There was a worry line between her brows that hadn’t been there before Andy’s diagnosis and her lips were drawn down at the corners in a perpetual frown. She forced herself to smile brightly for the mirror as she took a step back to examine her naked body.
Her breasts weren’t as perky as they’d once been, but at least they were still full and round. She’d never managed to lose (or rather, to keep off) those ten extra pounds she’d been carrying since having kids, all of it settling in her too-soft belly and hips. But all in all, she didn’t look too bad for a forty-four-year-old.
Mindful of the time, she stepped into the shower. As she washed and conditioned her hair and soaped her body, she thought about her friend. While Charlotte didn’t practice the all-out erotic submission and total power exchange Hannah wrote about in her novels, she was immersed in and completely at ease with the BDSM lifestyle.
Not for the first time, Hannah mused on how different her own life would have been if she’d had a better understanding of her sexual orientation when she and Andy had first met. Even before she’d met her future spouse, she’d had a secret fascination with BDSM. But she’d never found the nerve or opportunity to act upon it.
They’d married insanely young, she a nineteen-year-old virgin, he only a year older, both still in college. At the time, she hadn’t had either the vocabulary or the courage to admit her erotic fantasies of being spanked, tied down and sexually controlled by a stern, exacting Master.
She’d—wrongly—assumed her secret fascination with BDSM was just a passing phase, something she would get over as she sexually matured. Zoë was born when Hannah was barely twenty-one, Ben following two years later. With two babies and Andy barely out of law school and working impossible hours, for a number of years sex was something they grabbed when they could. Usually both of them, worn out at the end of the day, preferred sleep.
When the kids were finally in school, Hannah, always a fan of romance novels, decided to take her own stab at writing. She met with some success and slowly built up a fan base over time, self-publishing a series of sweet, sexy romances with formulaic happily-ever-afters.
It wasn’t until her early thirties that Hannah found the courage and sexual maturity to delve more deeply into her own erotic fantasies. She inhaled what BDSM erotica there was out there, which fueled her fantasies and reawakened her sluggish libido. At first, she hid what she was reading from Andy, assuming he’d be scandalized if he found out.
Eventually, she screwed up her courage to confide some of her milder BDSM sexual fantasies with her husband. To her pleased surprise, Andy had enthusiastically agreed to give it a try. He’d even gone out and bought fleece-lined wrists cuffs and a small flogger from the local sex shop.
Disaster had ensued.
While Andy was willing to try a little slap and tickle, he couldn’t hide his confusion and even horror when she pressed for more. He couldn’t understand why she wanted him tohurther, the concept of erotic pain utterly foreign to him. When she attempted some sexy role play to heat things up, suggesting he be the intruder who breaks in, ties her down and has his way with her, he explained he could never do that—he respected her too much.
Embarrassed and frustrated, Hannah had eventually thrown away the toys—painful reminders of what was not to be. Andy, clearly relieved to return to vanilla sex, never said another word about it.
But the Pandora’s Box of her longing had been opened, and she couldn’t quite manage to get the lid back down. She became quietly obsessed with erotic fantasies of being claimed by a powerful Dom who wouldn’t have to be cajoled in BDSM play, but woulddemandit.
While she had zero interest in betraying Andy with any kind of affair, in person or online, she did join several online BDSM groups where she could talk with experienced players, and not be judged for her desires.
It was then she made the career shift from vanilla romance to BDSM romance and pure erotica. She gave free rein to her darkest impulses, creating dark, sensual worlds filled with erotic slaves, controlling Masters and plenty of whips and chains.
It wasn’t until Ben left for college that, with Andy’s knowledge and blessing, she’d started attending some local BDSM events to learnfirsthand what she’d so far only gleaned from internet research. It was at one of these events that Hannah had met Charlotte. Their rapport had been instant. At the end of the event, they’d shared contact information and met soon after for coffee.
As their friendship deepened, Hannah had lived vicariously through Charlotte’s much more exciting life. She’d delighted in Charlotte’s detailed descriptions of scenes she’d enjoyed at her favorite BDSM club—The Garden. That was where Charlotte had met Jim, and their connection had been instant and intense.
Charlotte had become friendly with the owner of The Garden, Anthony Gerace. Between careers, Charlotte had taken a part time job there manning the door. When Anthony’s manager had abruptly quit due to family matters, he’d offered Charlotte the position and she’d accepted on the spot.
She was the one who had suggested Hannah go to the club to witness genuine BDSM scenes in progress. With Andy’s blessing, Hannah had accepted Charlotte’s invitation. She had gaped in jealous awe as she watched submissives flogged, whipped and sexually teased. Her skin had tingled with longing as she watched a Shibari Master wrap a woman from head to toe in confining rope and then suspend her by her long hair from the ceiling. She couldn’t help but imagine herself bound to that St. Andrew’s cross, or chained to the whipping post while a gorgeous Dom dressed in black leather had his way with her.
By the time she left the place, her panties had been literally soaked, her nipples throbbing so painfully she’d had to squeeze them as she drove herself home. She’d jumped Andy’s bones that first night, practically raping him in her lust. He hadn’t seemed to mind. After that, he’d been happy for her to hang out there, delighted to reap the benefits of her frustrated libido.
“Oh, I miss you, baby,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.
No.
She was not going there. Not now.
Climbing out of the shower, she dried off and went into her closet. She rummaged through her clothing rack, eventually selecting a prettyfloral sundress that still had its tags. She’d bought it just days before Andy’s diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer had upended their world.
She slipped the dress over her head and returned to the bathroom. As she blew her hair dry she made a mental note to make a hair appointment for later in the week. Glancing at the small travel clock that still sat on Andy’s side of the counter, she quickly applied moisturizer and makeup.
“You’ll do,” she said to her reflection.
When Hannah arrived at the café, Charlotte was already seated at a table for two near the door. Two years younger than Hannah, Charlotte was a slender woman with short, dark hair that framed a fox-shaped face with a pointed chin. She had large, dark eyes and a ready smile.
“Hey, there,” Charlotte called, getting to her feet as Hannah approached. “It’s so good to see you again.” They embraced and took their seats. Two large menus and two glasses of ice water were already on the table.
A young waiter appeared almost immediately with the restaurant’s free signature buttermilk biscuits, along with butter and a pot of honey. “Can I get y’all coffee? Juice? You know what you want to order yet?”
Charlotte ordered coffee, Hannah some orange juice.
