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That’s a given, I reply sending Max a kissing emoji.Anything else?
Just you. You coming hard on my cock. You drowning in my cum. You wearing only me as I worship your body. Now, stop distracting me from my important work unless you happen to be at home, tied to our bed and waiting for me.
My pulse begins to race, loving and hating his reply in equal measure. Then I get another message.Love youit reads.
“What does he say?” Tilly asks.
“Just you,” I reply blushing, refusing to reveal the rest of the message.
Tilly pulls a face, one of thoseawwwwfaces, one that’s hopelessly delighted with his soppy, romantic streak. “You are so taken, and I can’t say I blame you. How lovely that a high-profile man is a really decent person too.”
We go to a restaurant in the mall, needing a little pick-me-up of coffee and cake. And Isla's fed up with shopping, though we have been successful.
“So are you sure you don’t mind me being away for Christmas Eve and Christmas lunch?”
Tilly and I have talked at length about Max. She knows me, and is unsurprised I want to spend every waking moment with him. As a compromise, I’ll spend some of the holidays with Max and some with my family, a decision that has me thrilled to my bones. For so many intangible and obvious reasons, being with him feels absolutely right.
“I’m sure. We’ll miss you, but we’ll see you late afternoon. We’re cooking turkey, so fair warning if Max cooks it too.”
“Two Christmas dinners. Bring it on,” I tell her.
My last sessionwith Dave before Christmas is intense, his questions focusing on what, or who, Lionheart is. The answer is one I strive for every hour of the day, and none so more than now. All I have is a glimmer of an outline, a perception, but I’m still unclear who he is.
“What’s your view of Lionheart? Why do you describe your fear as being washed away? Where do you think you met this person? Does Lionheart present as a man, or a woman in your head? How long have you known Lionheart? Years, months, days?”
There’s question after question. At the end of the session, I’m exhausted and delighted to be out of there, even if it means a train journey to London. A couple of hours later, Max collects me from King’s Cross and drives me to Highgate.
Brrrby Kim Petras plays on the radio as I recount everything about my session.
“So whatisyour opinion of Lionheart?” he asks frowning. “Is he a good person?”
“I have to assume he is. But I can’tseehim.” Max hears my frustration and gathers up my hand. “What do you think?” I ask, curious.
He takes a deep breath, looking troubled. “I hope your reaction to him is genuine, that you saw him as good because he was. I mean, you described him as golden. That implies he’s good, doesn’t it?”
I lift a hand and then drop it to my lap. “Yeah, but he bought me from a sex ring. It’s shady as fuck.” It seems odd to put so much trust in a person I can’t picture, nor know their intentions. “Hopefully more will follow soon.”
“What else did Dave discuss? Did you speak about the grieving process again? That’s important.”
“We did. And, oh—he also asked me something else that I’d forgotten about.” It was a disconcerting question if I’m honest. And it had me rethinking every instinctive thought I’d had of Lionheart to date.
“What?”
“He asked me if maybe I’m not remembering everything because of a difficult interaction with Lionheart.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I couldn’t confirm either way. In my mind, he’s someone positive, but Dave has me wondering if somethingdidhappen. Something catastrophic, something emotionally damaging that’s fucked up my brain more than everything else.”
Max pales, and I totally get it. What could be worse than being raped and sold? “Let’s hope it’s not that,” he offers soberly.
As we drive through dense traffic, Aslan, the lion from Narnia pops into my head. For me, he’s the image that represents Lionheart. A figure who was fiercely protective and powerful. Who loved Narnia more than anything else and sacrificed his life for the greater good.
My thoughts trouble me.
“Can we watchThe Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobelater?”
Max eyes me curiously. “We can do whatever you want.” I smile, as he tells me, “Nearly home.”
