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My gaze lifts, and I watch as he walks away, getting into his sleek red car. Then I climb into my car and glance into the rearview mirror to find Jack resting his head, eyes closed against the seat belt.
During the drive back to the house, I think about Clay. In my mind, I try to reconcile the version I know now, the exuberant man unafraid to show his playful side and the man I knew before, the reluctant submissive who swallowed his pride to find himself. There are layers upon layers with this man, and once upon a time, I had the privilege of peeling back each one. I was there the night he cried. I was there the night he opened old wounds and bled his feelings to me. I was there every single step of the way.
“You love this aftercare shit, don’t you?” he asks with a smug grin as I tip up the water bottle, insisting he drinks.
“It’s not about whether or not I love it. It’s an integral part of the process,” I reply.
We’re sitting on the bed. His back is to the headboard with his legs splayed out before him. I can’t take my eyes off his face, watching how he locks up his emotions behind a cynical laugh or sarcastic joke.
“I let you treat me like a footstool, and then I got to wear your thighs like earmuffs. I don’t understand why I need water after that.” He laughs again, taking a swig.
As soon as each of our sessions ends, Clay crawls back behind the facade, forced to silence the vulnerable part of himself that we work every night to unleash.
“Everyone needs water to survive, Clay. I’m just taking care of what’s mine. Remember?”
When his eyes meet mine, there’s a warm familiarity there. He’s comfortable with me after only one month. “And I thought there would be more whips and paddles,” he says.
“We’ll get to that eventually,” I reply, reclining beside him on the bed. “You haven’t required punishment…yet.”
“You assume I’m coming back,” he says, which makes me laugh because it’s turned into a running joke. I say, ‘See you next time,’ and he says, ‘If I ever come back.’ Which he inevitably does every night.
“You’re coming back,” I mumble. “You’re far more interested in this lifestyle than you want to admit.”
A deep, sexy chuckle reverberates through his chest. “Lifestyle?”
“Call it what you want, Clay, but when something becomes a part of who you are and infiltrates every aspect of your life, even when you aren’t actively participating, it’s a lifestyle. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I tip back his water bottle again, and he shakes his head with a smile as he drinks. After he swallows, he turns toward me.
“So, what about you?” he asks, and I lift my head to stare in confusion.
“What about me?”
“How did you get started with this lifestyle?” he asks innocently as if he doesn’t see how invasive that is.
Our eyes meet momentarily, and I feel something I’ve never felt with a client. It’s intimate and disarming.
Maybe that’s why I suddenly feel comfortable divulging such personal information.
“Umm…” I stammer, sitting up. “I got out of a bad relationship and needed to feel empowered and regain some control. It helped me discover a part of myself I had kept hidden my entire life.”
“Wow,” he whispers, those stunning green eyes still focused on my face. “How long ago was that?”
“Six years,” I whisper.
“Did it help?”
“Immensely,” I reply, staring into his eyes again.
Looking back, I realize that was the first time my guard was down between us. He had asked something no one else had. It was the first time someone truly cared. It’s like there was a weak spot in the armor I had built around myself, and Clay easily found it.
Rule #15: Life is not black and white.
Jade
“I thought it was going to be embarrassing, but it wasn’t at all. I mean…it’s not like I’ve never had an orgasm during sex with someone else, but masturbating like that with another person was so…I don’t know…liberating!”
I’m rambling again, but instead of seeming annoyed, Eden actually looks a little amused. We’re sitting across from each other at one of the high-top bar tables downstairs at the club. We’ve been chatting for nearly an hour, and I’m not sure if this is part of her teaching plan or just two friends having a drink and talking about sex.
