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“Branding you is such a turn-on,” he claimed, releasing me from my restraints and removing the blindfold. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, heat was evident in his serious eyes. I was proud to be the one to put him in this state.Idid this! Hiding some of the marks around my wrists and ankles had become a habit… until that day.
Silas and Tom were scheduled to go back to college in three days, and we were already discussing how to carry on our relationship. One time, I accompanied him to a “party” organized by one of his friends. We drank for a while, and it felt good to finally belong. Until Silas reminded me that I belonged… to him, when he looked me square in the eye to suggest that they, too, could use me. What? Early on in our arrangement, he had insisted on discussing my limits. This was one of them. I cringed. “You know I wouldn’t suggest it if we didn’t share the same tastes. There’s no need to hesitate, dog.” The name-calling didn’t bother me. My trained mind triggered my responsive body, shamelessly showcasing the effect he has on me. I gulped the lump in my throat. “You trust me, so trust them. I’ll watch.”
They were sitting right there, and Silas was having the second most intimate conversation with me as if we didn’t have an audience. I belonged to him, but I wasn’t his thing. I never agreed to it. I felt nauseous. I whined. I felt weak. I bargained. I felt betrayed. I cried. He carelessly dismissed me, and I walked home alone. Did he purposely raise his voice so that I’d hear his disparaging comments on my way out? It was the last time I heard it, or heard from him, for that matter.After that, he ghosted me. Every part of my being missed him for so long. Eventually, I turned to other men. None of them were attuned to my needs… until I met the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with.
Alex.
“This shade of green makes your eyes pop, Mrs. Edison.” My client stares at herself in the mirror of the private dressing room and nods. “Let me find pumps to go with it.” Another nod. “You wear a size nine, right?” My question is purely rhetorical.
“Eight and a half,” the fifty-something redhead counters.
Why do women pretend to have smaller feet than they actually do? She’s going to hurt herself for no valuable reason. Pain is a friend of mine, yet the operative word is valuable. I’ve mastered the art of subtly enlightening clients, men and women alike, that being true to your style and self is vital. Some claim “no pain, no gain,” but I manage to persuade them. Mrs. Edison is a relatively new client, so I make an effort to not push her too hard, too fast…
But hours later, her new power suits are ready to be delivered to her home, including several pairs of shoes in a size nine. Go, me!
I pat myself on the back and head to the staff dressing room, where I can change out of the designer clothes that the store provides—to ensure that I look the part and advertise their merchandise—and into my regular clothes. Once I look like myself again, I grab my backpack and go to my awesome new manager’s office to touch base before enjoying my weekend. Technically, that’ll actually be Sunday through Tuesday, included, this week.
Working on weekends is common in retail, but sometimes I catch a break. I’ll never complain about it, though. My hours are flexible, and I get plenty of days off to look forward to. I finished earlier than usual today as a treat for surviving my first week at Santa Monica Place, the renowned outdoor mall! The work’s challenging and rewarding, the clients are demanding and trusting, and the team is welcoming and accommodating. Who could ask for more?
As soon as I step out of the upscale department store, I pause to angle my face toward the sky and soak up some Vitamin D, despite the nearly absent sun that’s typical for a late October evening.
I can’t believe it’ll be Halloween in a couple of days!
Why did it take the ordeal with Alex for me to realize that I’d missed Southern California so much? Naturally, one of the first things that I did after settling into my new apartment was reacquaint myself with the ocean. Walking to work is just one of the neighborhood’s many perks.
I eventually retrieve my phone from my backpack, start the trek home, and mindlessly dial instead of text; desperate times call for desperate measures. “Hey, Tom, wanna grab pizza for dinner? My treat, obviously.” Should I tell him that I’m hoping that his company will act as an antidote against my nightmares about Silas, which are back with a vengeance?
“My man, what’s up?” My cousin doesn’t give me time to reply before he asks, “What prompted this?”
“This what? The call? The dinner date? The pizza?”
“Oh, a date with my favorite cousin! Now you’re talking, baby.” He chuckles, and I return the gesture. He always had the ability to put me at ease. Why am I not surprised that he focused on the word “date” instead of the menu, although he’s a fitness addict and rarely indulges in what he considers to be junk food?
Why did I wait so long to suggest a guys’ night?
“I don’t know, cuz… Maybe the fact that I haven’t heard from you since you came back to LA, Mr. I’m-Too-Busy-To-Even-Text!” His tone is more playful than reproachful, but he strikes a nerve. Tom sounds like my friend, Michael, at times; I berate myself for being a terrible friend, even when I can count them on one hand. I make a mental note to call my former client.
“Touché… But now that I’ve got my bearings at work, I can breathe again… That’s why I’m calling, actually. Last day of my exhausting first week, and it went pretty well. I finally feel like I belong, you know? I think that causes for a celebration.”
He whistles on the other end of the line. “Happy about the improvement in your gloomy mood and career. Who would’ve thought that your prior manager from hell would willingly pull strings to help you relocate, thanks to the extra time off that your ex graciously… what exactly? Financed?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that…” It should go without saying that I didn’t tell Tom everything that happened with Alex. So far, the explanation he’s received was similar to the one I provided for Silas: something along the lines of “We weren’t on the same page anymore.” Not a lie, but not the total truth either. There’s no way I’ll admit that both men tried to push my boundaries, no matter that we established them from day one. Too much. Too fast. Too hard. Granted, neither forced me into anything, but they definitely wanted to.
Moving back here was a no-brainer… right after I gave myself a pep talk about Santa Monica being big enough to prevent running into Silas.
It has to be, right?
Tom and I seem to have an unspoken agreement to not bring up his former neighbor and best friend; only once did he confess that they had a falling out over something insignificant that Silas blew out of proportion. Honestly, I was stressed out after he barged in on us lip-locked at a party, which is odd, considering that I was already out. He assumed it was a drunken kiss. How could he have known about the insane summer attraction that went on behind closed doors?
Hence, I packed up my life, hopped on a plane, and headed back where I belonged. I’ve met Uncle Brad and the family for dinner in the interim but always find excuses to avoid returning to their beach house. I’m not eager to risk bumping into any member of the Sanchez family.
I deserve to vanquish my Santa Monica and New York past; my challenge as a grown-ass man is to overcome every aspect of it.
Regarding my burgeoning friendship with Nino, I simply told Tom that we’ve built a strong online connection over time.
My cousin is cognizant that gay men have male friends and that it doesn’t mean wanting to bone them, being attracted to them, or cheating on your man because you spent time with them. A tiny detail that Alex purposely overlooked where Nino was concerned, although he, too, had two close male friends…
Unless Aric and Noah are Alex’s exes? Nah, Alex resented you for not bending to his unshakable will. Forget about him already. He hurt you mentally, and you didn’t sign up for that. You got your life back!
