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I made myself be distant yet helpful. I stuck to my guns and stayed in the zone I imagined halfway between not being there for her at all, and being in her face, kissing her, fucking her, feeling her body. Damn.
Thursday, she was making little sarcastic jokes. Her true personality returned. As soon as I was certain, over the next emails that day, I told her I was doing it, going to truly go. Her replies became terser, angrier. Anger was good. I let it ride, even when she called me the misbegotten offspring of a hunch-backed koala and a camel. Ah. Definitely, the return of the sense of humor. I said goodbye. After my last email, I swallowed despite the dryness of my throat. She needed more than what I could give her.
Though it pained me to reach out to him, I emailed Moghul and asked if he could somehow, quietly, get someone to talk to Jodie. She wasn’t on Fetlife so I had to give her email to him. But, I knew her so well. Kink wasn’t a minor flutter for her. She needed some sort of insight and some help to see where she was going. Maybe, she needed another Dom?
That idea made me want to hurt someone again. Not her though, the imaginary him.
By the Friday afternoon, I was mostly numb, yet scared. I had to teach at the club.
Being an automaton at work was far easier than at the club. There, it was all numbers, clients with money concerns, and Marjorie, a secretary who was as old as the hills and more into knitting and cooking than sex. I wasn’t about to molest anyone.
Here though, there were people who loved life. People who knew me as the fun guy who taught them how to flatten each other in a good, repeatable, professional way. Judo was tripping with finesse. Or so I told them when we were being all casual at the club BBQs.
I pushed open the glass door and braced myself as Ted came storming down the hallway with a grin on his face.
“Good holiday?”
“Sure was.” I smacked his shoulder. “How’s the class?”
“Waiting for you, sensei. There’s one fresh face. Gavin. He’s from Mackay.”
“Okay.”
I made small talk as we walked.
What if I had this urge to hurt people here? Women specifically. My heartbeat was scaling the walls in urgency. Clearing the mind of evil thoughts was necessary before entering the dojo, but I doubted myself so badly. By the time I stood at the front of the class, with my black obi wrapped correctly and my white judogi neat, I was calm. The smell of the dojo thrilled me. So long, it had been. I was back.
“Sensei ni. Rei!”
They bowed. A now silent rank of kneeling judoka waited for me.
Slowly, I surveyed them, smiling grimly. Young, old, women, men. Nothing.
Nothing. Normal.
If I was a giggler, I would have burst out there and then. I had no absurd need to hurt people. I could control it this far at least. Around Jodie was another matter.
And if I explored further by entering the BDSM community? I had no doubt it would be the same with anyone else who was stupid enough to let me practice on them. The pull of it was extreme. Just remembering what we’d done, some of the scenes, the way she’d looked when she climaxed and when she let me command her… When I had hurt her.
No. I was done.
One week down, and now I had the rest of my life to live. If only it hadn’t become so monotone. For a month, with Jodie, I’d discovered color. Zingy, meat-raw, blown-sky-high color. Life after that was black and white and as tasteless as the chicken sandwich.
