Jonah Noble - Anticipation is everything (2 page)

I got up slowly from the table, as though any sudden movement might spook Leticia into the night. I went towards her, trying to pin her with just the force of my gaze. When I was close enough, I reached out for her and took her hand. It was trembling. She looked up into my eyes, her face filled with sadness and uncertainty.

“You seem to have thought this through carefully,” I said. “You seem to have made up your mind about who I am and what I want. But what about you, Leticia?” my voice took on an edge of challenge. “Instead of telling me all the things you believe I need sexually… why don’t you tell me the things that arouse you – the things that you’ve kept only in the fantasies of your imagination.”

Leticia said nothing for a long time. Suddenly the meal, the ring, and the significance of the evening were forgotten. It was just Leticia and I in the darkness, teetering on the precipice of breaking apart.

As a man who had kept his thoughts and feelings hidden for so long, I recognized the same sudden restraint in Leticia. There were things she wanted to say…

If we were fated to go our own separate ways through the rest of life, then there was little I could do, but if we broke apart for the want of honesty I would be devastated. I needed to know what was on her mind. I needed to know why.

I needed to know everything if we were to find a solution and make decisions without the lingering despair of regret.

“Tell me!” I snapped, my voice cracking like a whiplash. It was a tone Leticia had never heard me use – the voice I had only used when training and disciplining submissives. Leticia flinched and the look in her eyes became shocked. A long stunned silence seemed to stretch out between us.

Slowly, Leticia’s gaze became vacant. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and took a deep shuddering breath. “I’m cold,” she said, her voice soft and flat. “I want to go home.”

* * *

When we arrived home, Leticia went to the bedroom while I stalked restlessly around the big empty house, brooding darkly. Gnawing at my thoughts was the realization that on many levels, Leticia had been right: I recognized within myself the seeping sense of frustration – the constant need for restraint that jabbed under my skin like a burr. For my entire adult life I had been involved with the BDSM lifestyle, never once considering how much a part of who I was had been formed by my experiences.

Nor had I appreciated how much I was missing the sexual energy and the thrill of being in control of a woman’s thoughts, feelings and body – all those erotic elements that had made me into a Master.

I went into the kitchen, wandered down the long empty hallway, haunting the house like a restless ghost. The lights through the house were turned off so that I moved like a shadow while around me the old house creaked and settled.

“What was the most intense sexual experience of your life?”

I froze in mid stride. It was Leticia’s voice, coming softly from somewhere behind me. I switched on a lamp and saw her sitting quietly on a sofa, her legs curled up beneath her. She had changed into a sweater and jeans. Her face looked pale and tragic, as though she were grieving.

“A threesome I had with two young women,” I said without needing to think. “It happened several years ago.”

“But you still think about it?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “It was intensely erotic,” I said. “Sometimes images from that night still flash through my mind.”

I hadn’t moved. I was still standing in the hallway entrance. Leticia lapsed into a reflective moment of contemplation and impulsively I turned the lamp light back off, sensing that the darkness and the distance would somehow make it easier for Leticia to share the thoughts she had been harboring. I heard her move on the sofa, as though the dark had made her more comfortable.

“What was it about that encounter with those two women that made it so erotic?” she asked.

I drew a deep breath, and considered the question. “It was a combination of elements,” I said. My eyes had re-adjusted to the night so that I could make out the deeper darkness of the sofa and the other room furnishings, yet Leticia’s voice still sounded disconnected.

“One of the women was a young submissive – one of the first ones I had trained.”

“Was she younger than you?”

“Yes – a couple of years younger. I met her at a nightclub and we dated for a month or so before our relationship developed into one between a Master and his sub. She was very willing – she wanted to explore her own sexuality and so she was hungry for experiences. BDSM was something that resonated within her – she was a natural. I knew it from the first evening I took her home.”

“Then why didn’t you take her as a submissive immediately?” Leticia’s voice came out of the dark.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Everyone needs to make the discovery for themselves,” I explained. “You can’t force someone to submit and expect them to enjoy the lifestyle just because you do. I simply led the girl along the path until one night she realized that the need to surrender herself was intensely arousing for her. After that I began to train her.”

There was a long silence, and I imagined Leticia frowning on the sofa, gathering and assessing the information as more questions bubbled to the surface. At last she said, “What was her name?”

“Chloe,” I said.

“And the other girl? You said the encounter was a threesome.”

“Her name was Laurie,” I said. “The girls were friends.”

“And you all just tumbled into bed together?” There was a sudden hint of curiosity in Leticia’s voice.

I laughed lightly. “No,” I said. I leaned my shoulder against the hallway wall and made myself comfortable. “I told Chloe that I wanted her to bring another girl to our next training session. We had been together for several weeks, and Chloe had demonstrated an amazing willingness to obey all my commands. There was nothing the girl would not do – she was sexually insatiable. When I told her what I wanted, she arrived on my doorstep the following day with Laurie.”

“And this Laurie girl… was she submissive?”

I nodded, even though I knew Leticia could not see me in the darkness. “To a lesser extent,” I said. “She was very beautiful. She had long black hair and very pale skin. She was the physical opposite in every way to Chloe. I think that was part of the attraction, and one of the aspects I remember about that night. Seeing those two girls together – the differences between them as they obeyed each of my instructions – is one of my most vivid memories.”

“What did you make them do?”

“Nothing,” my voice hardened for an instant. “I don’t make women do anything. I asked them to make love to each other and they did.”

“While you watched?”

“To begin with.”

Leticia fell silent again and I waited in the darkness. I could hear her breathing – a slightly breathless ragged quality to each exhalation.

“How did you feel that night?” Leticia asked. “When you were watching those two girls together.”

I frowned. “I don’t think I understand…”

“I want to know how it made you feel,” Leticia cut across me. “I need to know what it was exactly about that night that made it so memorable that the details are still fresh in your mind all these years later.”

I pondered the question for several seconds and then reached for the lamp switch again. The dull yellow light spilled across the living room so that I could see Leticia’s face.

“I remember watching the two girls laying on the bed,” I began. “They were kissing each other – totally immersed in exploring each other’s naked bodies. They were both whimpering softly and making little gasps of excitement. I was standing beside the bed, watching them – realizing that I had made this scene happen. It was a powerful moment. I understood then that as a BDSM Master I had control over women who submitted to me, and that sexually, nothing was beyond my will. I was already on the path to evolving into a BDSM Master, but that night seemed to bring the power of that role into full clarity. It had a profound effect on me.”

I fell silent and Leticia said nothing. She was perched on the edge of the sofa with her knees together, hunched over as though she might spring to her feet at any moment.

“Does that make sense?” I asked finally.

“Yes,” Leticia said. “It makes perfect sense… and it proves my point.”

I arched an eyebrow. Leticia no longer looked distressed. Now there was sudden resolve in her expression.

“What point?” I asked warily.

She turned her head to me. “That we are all a product of our experiences,” she said abstractly.

I said nothing. Leticia let out a long sigh and I realized suddenly that I was holding my breath, waiting for her to continue.

“Jonah, just as that night with those two girls had a profound effect on the man you have become, so did my early experiences impact on me,” she began carefully, measuring each word before she uttered it. “That night shaped your future in the BDSM lifestyle. My first experiences had exactly the same intense effect on the woman I am today.”

She saw me frowning, realized I still didn’t understand. Leticia got to her feet and came towards me. “You asked me earlier tonight about my fantasies – those things that arouse me,” her voice became small with her self-consciousness. “I think it’s time I told you the truth.”

I felt a sudden rush of anxiety wash over me. Leticia was close enough for me to reach out and touch her, but my arms hung heavy at my side. She looked up into my eyes, and at last her gaze was steady and unwavering.

“I like to watch,” Leticia said.

* * *

I went to the sofa and sat down beside her. An inch separated us, yet it seemed to represent the place where we had arrived at in our relationship – on the verge of breaking apart, yet still within reach of each other – still able to cling together if we could find a way to close the distance that was not just a matter of physical space.

It was emotional. Maybe ideological.

Leticia was staring blankly at the wall. Her hands were clasped in her lap, the knuckles white, her fingers twisting and restless with anxiety.

“When I first interviewed you I told you about an experience I had when I was younger,” Leticia said, like she was talking to the room. “Do you remember?”

I frowned. I had a vague recollection, but nothing more. I shook my head slowly and Leticia made a self-depreciating little laugh. She glanced at me. “I’m not surprised,” she confessed. “Compared to your encounters it was very mundane… but to me, that experience had a telling impact on my sexuality and my personality,” she said.

I thought back – Leticia and I had talked about so much during the first interview that I honestly could not recall details. I closed my eyes and sat back in the deep leather upholstery, trying to play back memories of the interview and our long conversations.

“It was when I was eighteen,” Leticia said as she began to quickly recount the details. “I was at my girlfriend’s house for the weekend. I woke up in the middle of the night and found her with her lover in her parent’s bedroom. They were having sex – and I stood in the doorway and watched it all.”

I remembered suddenly, and I sat up with a dawning sense of understanding.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s coming back to me.”

Leticia nodded. “I watched them having sex, and they put on a show because they knew I was watching. They wanted me to watch them. It was as arousing for them as it was for me. They even pushed the door wide open so I could have a better view and invited me to join them… which I did not.”

“But you still had an orgasm.”

“Yes,” Leticia blushed suddenly. “I had an orgasm just from watching them.”

We fell silent for a long moment. Leticia was perhaps reliving that night from so long ago. I was suddenly seeing the pieces of the puzzle that was Leticia falling into place.

“Do you remember anything else about the first time I interviewed you?” she asked softly. “Do you recall the conversation after I told you about that encounter?”

“No,” I admitted with a sound of apology.

“You asked me if I still think about that night,” Leticia said, then turned her face to mine and stared deeply into my eyes with a desperate kind of plea for me to understand. “And I answered you,” she went on. “I told you I still think about that experience. Every. Single. Day.”

I sat back as everything suddenly began to make sense, but through the thinning haze, Leticia was still talking.

“I think it’s in my nature,” Leticia shrugged. “My fantasies all revolve around that night. If I don’t recall that particular incident, then the things I do think about all revolve around me being a spectator – watching the sexual exploits of others through a door, or a window… or like images on a screen,” she shrugged her shoulders and let out a long sigh that sounded like relief – like the lifting of some heavy burden. “It’s probably why I became a journalist,” she added. “My job is all about observing – watching and recording the lives and incidents of others.”

I reached out at last and took Leticia’s hand. It was cold, her fingers trembling.

“I understand,” I said gravely. “And it makes sense. We are the product of our experiences,” I agreed. I was sad because I realized Leticia and I were divided by a sexual incompatibility that I saw no way to bridge. “It seems we have a problem…”