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“Oh.” He could almost hear the wheels turning. “I just thought, well … that’s the, ah, available opening.”
“Yeah,” he said, “and because it feels good. So do you want to try it? You can get vibrating ones. That’s generally the preferred option.”
“I’ve done that. Remember? But it was small. This thing wasbig.And this is a very strange conversation.”
“I do remember. It’s probably bad that I’m getting turned on, what with your face and all. We could try a slightly bigger one, once you’ve recovered. You could see how it feels.”
“We could try a matching set,” she said.
He could not stop smiling. “OK.”
“Seriously? You would?”
“Why not? Life is short. As we know.”
“Cool,” she said. “Something to look forward to. Once my face isn’t smashed.”
They drove for another few miles, and he said, “So you don’t want to talk about the other things. A bridge too far, maybe.”
“I told you. I figured the mask was for sex. I’m notthatsheltered.”
“It was. And so was the rest of it. That was a tickler.”
“Atickler?People like to be tickled? Well, I’m sure they do. People like all sorts of weird things. That’s the definition of ‘fetish.’”
“It can feel good,” he said. “Generally when you’re, ah, restrained.”
“Again,” she said, “you have this information secondhand.”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s about letting yourself feel sensation. Pleasure.”
“What if it’s just about letting yourself feeltickled?And you hate it?”
“The idea is,” he said carefully, “that you communicate. And stop when she wants to.”
“This is somewhat creepy,” she said. “Since it’s Samantha.”
“Probably. Instructive, though. Want to know about the other things?”
She sighed. “Why not. It’s a long drive. I’m so desperately unsophisticated, though, I can’t believe you’re enjoying sleeping with me.”
He laughed again. He wouldn’t have said, a day ago, that he’d be laughing for a long time, but here he was. “That’s what makes it fun,” he said. “The fly swatter was a swatter, yeah. For her backside.”
She considered that. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Depends how hard you do it. Again—sensation. You’re playing. Seeing what you like. Role-playing, maybe.”
“Suddenly,” she said, “the butterfly takes on a whole new meaning.”
“It did it for me. That was one hell of a sexy costume. I enjoyed my butterfly.” He shifted in his seat and gave himself a quick adjustment, because, yeah, he was uncomfortable. “And I have to take you in to your parents in about ten minutes and let them be horrified about what’s happened to you, and think about how you almost died. My head may explode here.”
“Sorry,” she said. “You’re the one who wanted to talk about it.”
“Right. One more, then, as we’re on the subject. The rope was, well, rope.”
“You’re kidding. For bondage? It wasthick.I thought you used scarves for that.”
“Thick, yeah. And probably silk. That’s the idea. If you tie somebody with something thin, it bruises, and it hurts. If it’s thick, and it’s coiled around a few times, it doesn’t.”
