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Frankie: And the rest?
Erik: Labia torture? Again, clamping mostly.
Frankie: And women enjoy this?
Erik: You’d be surprised.
God, yes, I’d be surprised.
Frankie: Anything else that you engage in?
Erik: I’ve tried a lot of things. These are the things I enjoy the most. But if there’s something that a submissive wants that I don’t normally do, I will entertain the idea if I feel I can do it without putting either one of us in any danger.
Frankie: Danger? What could be dangerous?
Erik: There have been times when my partner has asked me to draw blood.
Blood sports. Isabella mentioned that. So did Phantom. Still…acid crawls up my throat.
Frankie: Drawing blood? Is that safe?
Erik: Absolutely, when done correctly. And I will not engage in it unless I feel that I can do it with absolutely no danger to my partner or myself.
Frankie: How do you do it?
Erik: There are many different ways. Needles probably are the most common.
I’m afraid to ask him to elaborate. But this is research for work. I have to ask. Before I can, though, another message pops up.
Erik: All the instruments are sterilized beforehand, and an antibiotic ointment is applied when we’re done. I also make sure that she checks in with me both twenty-four and forty-eight hours later.
Frankie: And clubs let you do this?
Erik: Actually, not all clubs do. But some will. Then of course you can do anything you want if you have the privacy of your own dungeon.
Frankie: Do you have your own dungeon?
Erik: Not at the moment.
Frankie: I see. Thank you so much for your candor. May I contact you again if I need more information?
Erik: Absolutely. And remember it’s Erik. Erik with a K.
Chapter Twenty
Frankie
At my apartment that evening, I begin to compile the notes into a rough draft. I need lots more information, but I certainly have a good start.
The problem is…what do I do about clubs? No one was willing to go into detail, and I understand that. I know of one, but I can’t mention it.
My phone buzzes.
It’s Isabella. Perfect. She’s a source.
“Hey, Izzy,” I say.
“Hey, do you feel like getting a drink? I’m restless.”
I check my watch. “I’m actually working on a story, but I could use a break.”
“Great, meet me over at Rossi’s? We can have a glass of wine or something.”
“I’ll be there.”
Half an hour later, I’m sitting with Izzy, pouring out what I learned from the people I chatted with online.
“I never thought of that,” she says. “That’s the best way to get information. Nobody has to worry about the confidentiality agreement, because they’re not identifiable.”
“Right? I’ll be very good about not mentioning any clubs or anything.”
“How could you? You don’t know any of them.”
I look down at the table. “Right. Of course.”
I hate lying, but Isabella is lying to me as well. By omission. Of course, she’s bound by a confidentiality agreement.
“Thanks for being one of my sources.” I smile.
Izzy crosses her legs. “I’ve been thinking about that, Frank, and I’ve already told you too much.”
“Why do you say that? I don’t think anything of it.”
“I know you don’t, but it’s just such a private thing, you know?” She takes a sip of wine. “I don’t want to say anything more.”
“Yeah, I do know. I get it.”
More than she knows. Good thing I have other sources online.
“May I still use what you’ve told me?”
“Yeah. That’s fine.” She takes another sip of wine. “So…how are your sister’s wedding plans going?”
I roll my eyes. “I had to go wedding dress shopping Saturday. And get my maid of honor dress as well. We went to Macy’s, which is so totally Mandy. Saving pennies anywhere she can.”
“How come you didn’t get the frugal gene?”
“I was marrying the son of a multimillionaire. The guy has a trust fund. I didn’t have to be frugal.”
“True. But his trust fund wasn’t big enough to overlook cheating.” Izzy sighs. “Did you ever find out who he was fucking behind your back?”
“Nope.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
I pick up my wine, swirl it in the glass. “Not really. I mean sure, I’m curious. But it’s probably some skank.”
Isabella laughs, which is interesting. Isabella doesn’t laugh that often.
“Anyway, I’m over it.”
“Are you really?”
“Over Penn? Absolutely. Over the humiliation of it all? Not so much.”
“No one thinks any less of you, Frank.”
“I know that. In fact, I’m finding out that no one wanted me to marry Penn in the first place.”
“Yeah.”
“My mom and dad made it very clear. So did Mandy. They all thought he was no good. And I’m like, why didn’t you tell me you felt like this before we set a date?”
“For the same reason Gigi and I didn’t tell you,” Isabella says. “Because we love you. We wanted you to be happy.”
“But apparently none of you thought Penn was going to make me happy.”
“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make a lot of sense now that I look at it in hindsight.”
