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And even when we were close, I couldn’t really be open with her. The one time I’d even hinted at being attracted to men, she reacted with such hostility that I never brought it up again. Maybe she’d felt threatened by it, because she thought I might leave her for a man. I could only speculate, since she wouldn’t discuss it.
Now, with the wreckage of that relationship in my rearview mirror, it was a bit disconcerting to realize just how alone I was. Really though, I had no one but myself to blame. What was that very American expression about lying in the bed you’d made? That definitely applied to me.
After several more minutes of pacing, I realized I desperately needed a distraction. I traded my sweat pants for jeans, and since Reuben was off duty, I called a cab. It arrived quickly and drove me back to the office.
The security guard working the night shift in the main lobby knew me by name, since I usually worked late. “Hi, Mr. Volkov,” he said, when I let myself in with my key card. “I thought you’d gone home for the night.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “me, too.”
Thankfully, it turned out I didn’t have long to wait before Timothy got back to me. I received a text from him around midmorning the next day, which said: I’m in. When would you like to begin?
Relief and panic welled up in me at the same time, and I quickly took a seat on the sofa in the den. After a few deep breaths to steady myself, I reverted to the part of me that could function on auto-pilot—the businessman.
My hands were shaking as I responded: I’d like to start today, but there are still some details to work out.
He wrote: My day’s wide open. What kind of details?
I hated this bit, but it needed to be done. My clients had to have total confidence in me to trust me with their money, and any hint of a scandal could shake that trust. I replied: I’d like you to sign a nondisclosure agreement.
He answered right away: Not a problem.
I asked if I could call him, because texting was painfully slow. When he agreed, I dialed his number, and he answered with, “Hi Aleksei. How are you this morning?” He sounded as cheerful as ever, and I was glad about that.
“I’m good, and grateful that you got back to me so quickly.” It had felt like an eternity, but that was on me, not him. I asked for his email address so I could send him the NDA and explained, “I found a template online, since I preferred not to involve my lawyer. Obviously if there are any points you object to, we can discuss them and edit accordingly.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
As long as we were talking about uncomfortable subjects, I pressed ahead with, “For your peace of mind, I’ll also send a copy of the STD screening I had done as part of my annual check-up last week. It was negative across the board.”
He sounded like he was teasing when he asked, “Were you that sure I’d say yes?”
“No, not at all. In fact, I figured you’d probably say no, but I wanted to get it out of the way, just in case.”
“I’ll send you my test results, too. They’re a month old, but I haven’t had sex in about six months, so nothing’s changed.”
“Why haven’t you—never mind. That’s none of my business.”
He knew exactly what I’d started to ask. “After my last relationship imploded and left me reeling, I decided I was done with dating for the foreseeable future. Instead, I tried the hookup app thing for a while, but after a few months, I decided it wasn’t for me. If it didn’t even get me off, what was the point?”
“You didn’t find it exciting?”
“Not really. What I’ve learned about myself is that I’m not plain vanilla, and that’s all I was finding—well, that or super kinky, and that’s not me, either,” he said. “I need a little spice with my sex, or it just doesn’t do it for me. For the record? What you proposed last night is the perfect amount of spice, especially the part about you calling the shots.” It was good to hear he was actually turned on by that.
But it reminded me of something I should have told him the night before, so I said, “Even though we agreed I’d be in charge, I need you to tell me if I ask you to do something you dislike, or that makes you uncomfortable. I can’t stand the thought of you trying to endure something you don’t enjoy.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ll definitely tell you,” he said, “and what I’d like in return is for you to be open with me. If there’s something you want, throw it out there. If it’s outside my comfort zone—and it probably won’t be—I’ll tell you, and we’ll move on to something else. Okay?”
