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“Because of the judgment and the criticism.”
“And what do you think they are going to say? What do you think they are going to do?”
“They’ll say I’m cheating on my husband and —”
“Are you cheating on your husband?” she asked, halting my words.
“Of course not.”
“And why aren’t you?’
“Because being polyamorous means opening our lives to more love and more experiences. It’s something we mutually decided and agreed on,” I answered.
“And how is that not cheating?” She wasn’t attacking me, but helping me work through the issue as a polyamorous woman herself.
“Because cheating involves lying and deception. There’s no communication, trust, or respect.”
“And so how can they say you are cheating when you aren’t?”
“Because they don’t understand.”
“And what’s the best way to help people understand?”
“Explain it to them.” I was starting to see her point.
“And to do that…” she trailed off, letting me finish the thought.
“I should be honest and open. But what about the fact that I’m not just seeing other people, but I like to torture and tease people into submission?”
“More people are kinky than not these days, if you ask me, Sadie. You know that. Hell, there are movies about BDSM that are hella mainstream these days. Not always the best representation of the lifestyle, sure, but it’s out there, nonetheless.” She had a point there.
“And it would still work the same. Explaining it would do more good than harm.” I added, almost more to myself than to her.
“Exactly. They’re already thinking the worst and talking about things that aren’t even true.”
“You’re right.” I sighed, realizing that it was only my own hang-ups holding me back. Jamie and Thatcher had been right. So had Danielle.
“I mean, I tend to be. Listen, Sadie, I know it’s hard to come out with these things. There is judgment and sometimes ridicule that can come with it. But those people are the ones already talking about you behind your back. You can’t stop those things from happening. What youcando is focus on making your life as positive and happy as possible. And right now, with this drama, you are not happy. So I say go for it. Tell everyone and let the pieces fall where they will. At the end of the day, the drama will be behind you, and you can move on with these two men and your other submissives who make you happy. Screw anyone who doesn’t want to be a part of your joy.”
Pamela’s words hit home, and I felt the panic and worry I had felt for days begin to recede, replaced by peace.
“Thank you, Pamela,” I said sincerely.
“Of course. And if you get your head up your ass about shit again, remember to call Miss Vixen, and I’ll beat the brain weasels out of you.” I laughed at her play at dominance, knowing full well I’d be on a plane to New York to do just that if the situation ever did arise. She was one hell of a mentor, and I loved her dearly.
“Talk to you later?”
“You better! I want to hear all the juicy details of how it goes! I’ll make popcorn. It’ll be great!” She cackled as we hung up the phone. I was grateful for her guidance and counsel.
We would have the party. Jamie, Thatcher, and I would come out to the neighborhood, and it would be what it would be.
With a new sense of relief and purpose, I headed upstairs to shower. I had a date to prepare for.
* * *
“I still can’t believeI got to meet the artist himself!” Thatcher exclaimed at dinner several hours later. We had all attended the art exhibit together; Jamie, myself, Thatcher, and Valen. Thatcher had been like a kid in a candy store, though on the outside he had been cool as a cucumber. Absolutely refined, talking to the three of us about light and shadow, mediums and movement. Honestly, half the time I simply watched his face light up as he spoke.
“He was borderline besotted with you, Thatcher.” Valen chuckled, taking a sip of their beer. After much discussion, we had decided to forgo Jamie’s suggestion of eating at Biancheria, and instead went to a tapas place where we could sit and munch and talk the night away.
