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“That’s a question I’ve asked myself a lot,” she says. “And I think the best answer I can give you is that it feels right to me at the time. I’m not a full-time submissive—”
“Wait. There are full-time submissives?”
“Sure. There are full-time Dominants, too. Meaning that’s the only kind of sex they engage in.”
“Okay.” I try to stop the buzzing in my head. “What does that mean, exactly? That they submit to their partners all the time?”
“No,” she says. “I’m talking about men and women who only engage in BDSM sex. I don’t do that. I like it sometimes. Sometimes I like regular vanilla sex.”
“Vanilla?”
“Yeah. You know. Cock in pussy. No handcuffs or other…toys.”
“And that’s called vanilla?”
“Yeah. Vanilla. Pure. Uninteresting.”
I roll my eyes. “Have you forgotten that vanilla is my favorite flavor, Izzy?”
She laughs. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinking about that. I like vanilla, too. But it’s just a term, Frank. Don’t read anything else into it.”
“I don’t actually find regular sex uninteresting,” I say.
“Neither do I. I love it. Like I said, I’m not a full-time sub.”
“What is it about submission that appeals to you?”
“I think it’s the surrender,” she says. “I like it most when I’ve been through a tough time at work or a tough time emotionally. I like giving my pleasure over to someone else. Letting him or her—”
I stop typing, my jaw dropped. “Wait a minute. Or her?”
“Oh yeah. There are female Dominants.”
“And you’ve been with one?”
“I have. And no, I’m not bisexual. I’m not looking for a bisexual companion. I’m looking for a man. But to be honest, the best submissive experience I’ve ever had was with a woman.”
“Wow. I had no idea.”
“Come on, Frank. We all experiment in college.”
“I didn’t.”
“Really?
“Not with women.” I narrow my eyes. “Are you saying you did?”
“I did. And I know Gigi did.”
“Wow.” I exhale slowly. “How did I not know that about my two besties? Maybe I am vanilla.”
“Maybe you are. And that’s okay, Frank. You do you.”
“You bet I will. I’ll do me.”
And damn it, I don’t know what Phantom has in store for me Saturday night, but I’m going to make sure I experience every bit of it.
I’ll do me.
And he’ll do me.
Chapter Eleven
Frankie
Friday night dinner at Mom and Dad’s—it’s a standing date, though we can get out of it with twenty-four hours’ notice.
Mandy and Jackson are here, of course, and we’re going to discuss wedding plans.
May I jump off the nearest cliff, please?
Apparently Mandy and Jackson don’t want to wait. Mom, Mandy, and I haven’t been able to nail Noreen down to a lunch date yet, but already I know she won’t like the rush of all this. Why the rush anyway? The two of them have known each other forever, and neither of them are going anywhere, but of course, no one asked me.
“So how’s work, Frankie?” Mandy’s tone is polite, but this is obviously an attempt to talk about me before it’s wedding, wedding, wedding.
“It’s good. The same.”
“You working on any interesting articles?” Jackson asks.
“Actually”—I draw in a breath—“I’m investigating the BDSM scene here in the city.”
Everyone goes quiet.
Seriously.
I’m pretty sure we could hear a feather drop onto the carpeting.
I can understand why my mom and dad might be a little freaked out about that. Who wants to hear that their younger daughter is investigating an alternate sexual lifestyle?
“It’s not like I said I was doing it or anything.”
“That sounds…interesting.” Mom’s face has gone as white as her china.
“Yeah, I think it would be, but it’s difficult to get information. Apparently people who engage in this lifestyle are very quiet. They can’t talk about it because everything is confidential.”
“Well”—Dad clears his throat—“as long as you enjoy your work, Frankie.”
“My work doesn’t entail me actually doing the stuff, Dad. I’m investigating it. It’s of interest to our readers.”
“Honey, whatever makes you happy.”
My God. My parents really think—
Then I look at my sister. I look at her fiancé.
Neither of them says a word. They’re just chewing their food ferociously.
No. Way.
Seems my big sister and I need to have a little chat.
Alone.
I swallow my bite of peas. “So, Mandy, what kind of wedding do you envision?”
Mandy looks visibly relieved. “Nothing huge. We decided to have it at Jackson’s parents’ house because it’s so big.”
“And Noreen’s okay with that, Jack?” I ask.
“It’s what Mandy and I want,” he says, “so she’ll be okay.”
Mandy doesn’t look so sure.
“Don’t you want to get married in a church?” Mom asks.
“We could if it means that much to you. But Jack and I don’t think we need a church. Our vows will take no matter where we are. And this way we don’t have to wait. Bill and Noreen’s place is always available.”
“Then whatever you want,” Mom says.
“My parents’ backyard will make a great place for a ceremony and a small reception,” Jackson says.
