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But that’s not entirely true. I’m always satisfied in bed with Clay. Just the last few times we had sex, I told him what I wanted, and we both ended up with orgasms. And yet, here I am…trying to learn how to be better for him.
With an audible huff, I pull out my phone again and go back to the quiz. There are no right answers here. Just be honest.
Both.
Do you like to be dominated in the bedroom? Sometimes.
Would you be open to multiple partners in the bedroom? Maybe.
How do you feel about being watched by others while masturbating or having sex? Neutral.
Okay, I suck at this.
All of my answers feel so boring and indecisive. Am I broken? So I like the idea of being in control and also the idea of being controlled. Doesn’t everyone? I suck at making decisions, but I love the idea of knowing exactly what my partner needs and giving that to them. Where is that question?
Life is not black and white, and we don’t all fit into neat, little prescribed boxes.
If you could not fulfill your partner’s desires, would you be open to allowing them to seek that fulfillment with another partner?
My thumb hovers over the options as I read that question once, then twice, then three times. This is what Eden was talking about with her friend, wasn’t it? Something about this question makes me feel both relieved and terrified. It seems like such a simple solution—to allow someone else to satisfy my partner if I couldn’t.
Then I think about Clay. If I can’t be what he needs, how would I feel about him getting that somewhere else? Like with Eden.
The thought burns. Not because he wouldn’t be faithful to me, but because…then they would have something without me. I’m not normally so territorial with my partners, but it seems everything is different with Clay.
By the time I reach the end, I’ve lost complete faith in myself and this quiz. While the results generate, I suck down what’s left of my drink.
When the results page says the wordSwitch, I first assume that means I’m supposed to switch answers or life choices. But then, I click on the link provided and read up on what these results mean.
Switches prefer to change roles in the bedroom depending on their mood, partner(s), or situation. They enjoy both dominant and submissive roles and often pair well with other switches.
Well, great, I huff. Even my sex life is unable to make a decision.
Rule #16: You can’t run from yourself.
Jade
After finishing the quiz, I pocket my phone and rise from the high-top table. I take my empty glass to the bar and wave at the bartender as I set it down.
The results of my quiz and the conversation with Eden are haunting me as I stand there, deciding my next move. I could go home, maybe call Clay or stop by his place. I haven’t seen him today, and I’m starting to feel guilty about that. Something about not telling him about my meetings with Eden feels like lying.
But there’s also something holding me here at this club. Eden did say I have full access, and if my homework is to decide what I really like, then there’s no harm in taking a look around, maybe down that hallway where we went the other day.
Giving myself a little mental pep talk, I turn from the bar and head toward the voyeur hall instead of the door. To my surprise, no one stops me, gawks at me, or makes me feel weird about this. Even the bouncer pulls aside the curtain for me, ushering me inside.
The hallway is oddly quiet compared to the main room, and immediately upon entering, I hear the muffled sounds of sex and pleasure. Unlike the last time I was in here, there is more than one room lit up and on display. In fact, every room is active tonight.
To my right, a man is spanking another man over his lap. His ass is marked red as he howls with each slap. I find myself watching them for a few moments, putting myself in each of their shoes. If I’m truly a switch, then I’d enjoy both of those roles, right?
I picture myself as the man in the chair, rubbing the raw, cherry-red flesh of someone’s ass before inflicting more pain just to hear them scream. I don’t consider myself much of a masochist, but the idea of inflicting pain and holding that control does arouse me in a unique and exciting way. I feel the warmth pooling between my legs as proof.
Then I picture myself as the man in his lap. By the way he’s rutting, he’s clearly getting off on the scene. The idea of being in trouble and punished is oddly arousing too, and I never realized that before.
After a few moments, I drift away from the men in the first room and slowly pass the second, which is less exciting. A man and a woman are on the bed, and she is riding him with her back turned toward the window.
When I turn around to see the next room, my feet freeze on the floor. I stare in shock as I take in the sight. It’s a woman tied like a starfish to a large black platform bed. There’s a man sitting in a chair near the corner, half-naked and watching as the woman on the bed is practically tortured—with pain or pleasure, I can’t tell.
It’s the person doing the torturing that has my mouth dry as sandpaper and my heart thumping rapidly in my chest—Eden.
