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“Dominant,” I answer for her.
She nods. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s possible he never will.” I force myself to swallow, shoving away those buried feelings for the man we’re referring to.
“Why not? If he liked it with you…why wouldn’t he like it with me?”
I let out a sigh. How do I explain this to her? What Clay and I had wasn’t something that came naturally, at least not to him. Which means he’ll likelyneverask for it from her. To him, I was a safe place to explore, safe from the judgment of others who had already imposed a sense of toxic masculinity into his psyche. With me, he didn’t have to feel embarrassed by how much he loved to submit.
Not to mention, plenty of people seek out professionals to fulfill needs their partners either can’t or don’t want to fulfill. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I’ve never had to explain it to someone’s girlfriend before.
I have no clue how much he told her about us, but from the way she’s talking now, I assume he left out some very key details about our relationship.
When I think about it, Clay and I have that in common. His kinky life is like his alter ego, which means he’s likely to keep his normal life vanilla.
When I don’t respond, she jumps in, eager to fill the silence.
“What if he leaves me because of that? I have no idea how to be like you or give him what he wants, and I’ll lose him because of it. How is that fair?”
Since when has life been fair?
“I suggest you talk to him,” I reply. “There’s no reason to believe he’d leave you just because—”
“Or you could teach me.”
I freeze again. This girl has a way of being so blunt it knocks me off my axis. I’m not used to people just saying whatever is on their minds. Normally, people are too intimidated by me to be so forward—but not this girl.
“That’s not one of my services,” I reply.
Her shoulders slump. “Please. I’m desperate.”
Looking up from my wineglass, I get a glimpse of her round, innocent eyes, and I have to look away. Quickly, I stand and take my glass to the wet bar in the corner.
“Listen. If you’re really concerned about fulfilling your boyfriend’s needs, you should talk tohim. If he does express an interest in a Domme/sub dynamic, then the two of you can do that research together. And honestly, if he’s willing to leave you because he can’t come clean about his needs, you’re better off without him.”
I’m pouring myself another glass when I sense her standing up in my periphery. There’s a part of me that just wishes she’d leave. It’s awkward enough to have a conversation about a client with his girlfriend, but it’s made even worse by the fact that Clay was…different.
I should really be vetting my clients better.
“But you know him better,” she whispers as I set the wine bottle down.
I force myself to swallow.
Idoknow him better. I know the way he fights back. I know the handsome smirk he wears just as he’s about to give in. I know the way he seems to look right through my facade and into my soul. I know the way he melts when it’s all over. I know that the man he presents to the world is cocky and guarded, but the man beneath that charade is…beautiful.
Picking up my wineglass, I turn toward her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. Your boyfriend was a client, and I have to protect his privacy, so I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
Her pretty face turns angry, her eyebrows pinched inward and her mouth set in a straight line.
“I thought you’d be more eager to help me.”
“Why—”
“Because I read your blog, and not just the kinky stuff. I went far enough back through your posts to see that you were once curious and naive like me. You know what it’s like to be a woman who wants to learn without real guidance. You know what it’s like to be terrified, afraid you’ll be taken advantage of.”
“Yes, but I never did it to please aman.” My voice is so flat and cruel I almost don’t recognize myself.
Hurt floods her features as she stares at me, but I don’t let my remorse show.
