The Mormon and the Dom (12 page)

“How much do I owe you?”

Ronan shook his head. “Today is what they call a trial session.”

Noah looked up, his disbelief clear.

“When I compared what I do with a doctor or an auto mechanic, it was a deeply faulty analogy. A doctor can attend to most humans, and a mechanic can work on most cars, but what I do is deeply specialized. I always have the first scene as a free one so that neither of us is under any pressure.”

“I don’t—”

“Think of it as a free sample. I do so because I don’t want anyone to walk away feeling they didn’t get their money’s worth. Dissatisfied clients can destroy a business like mine.” At another dubious look from Noah, Ronan added, “You and I are extremely compatible, but that isn’t always the case.”

Still unconvinced, Noah nodded. “How much for future sessions?”

Ronan quoted his standard price.

Noah’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open into a perfect O.

“I understand that’s probably more than you wanted to spend.”

“That’s more than what I pay my doctor and mechanic combined!”

“That might be so, but that’s what I charge.” Ronan moved away from Noah and went into the kitchen. From the junk drawer, he found one of his cards. They’d been languishing in there since he’d quit. He honestly never thought he’d hand another one out, but here he was doing that very thing.

Turning to Noah, who had followed him into the kitchen, Ronan extended the card and placed it in Noah’s hand. “You don’t have to set up anything now. Go home. Think about what happened. If you come to the conclusion I’m worth it, give me a call.”

“What if I want you to recommend someone cheaper?”

You get what you pay for
. That’s what Ronan wanted to say, but he held his tongue. “I don’t know anyone else. Doms don’t hang out together. But Tony could give you the names of other men who might be able to help you.” The idea of Noah in some other man’s hands just about made Ronan’s blood boil. But he let nothing of his inner turmoil show. He couldn’t. He didn’t own Noah. He had no right to caution him or tell him he might be putting himself in a world of hurt if he hooked up with the wrong man. All Ronan could do was tell him the truth.

“I am very good at what I do. That’s why the first session with me is free. I know that I have to prove my ability, since you can’t take my word for it. But other Doms might not be so generous with their time, their attention, or their ability to help you psychologically. If you decide not to call me again, I understand, but I encourage you to go to the website listed on the back of my card. It will tell you what to look for when interviewing your next Dom.” Ronan realized he’d violated plenty of his own rules with Noah, but he hadn’t broken the spirit of the code between Dom and submissive.

“Wouldn’t your website tell me exactly what you want it to?”

Ronan actually liked that Noah was suspicious. He should be. Caution in everything connected to BDSM would keep him safe. Sadly, there were all kinds of sexual sadists out in the world covering what they did by calling it domination. “It’s not my website. It’s a reputable site that’s been around since 1996.”

“Oh.” Noah held the card for a moment, looking at the front and the back. It was a very simple cream card on heavy stock with walnut-brown print giving only his first name and his phone number. On the back was the website that had no connection to him whatsoever. When Noah extracted his wallet and carefully tucked the card into the slot that held his money, Ronan took that as a good sign. Had Noah just shoved the card into his pocket, he wouldn’t have thought he’d ever hear from him again. That he took care with the information spoke volumes.

As much as Ronan wanted to ask for Noah’s phone number in return, he didn’t. That wasn’t how it worked. For this to be a truly professional relationship, Noah had to contact him, not the other way around. Letting go of that control was difficult for Ronan, but release responsibility he did. He wanted Noah for a dozen complex reasons that didn’t all make sense to him, but more than anything, Ronan respected Noah’s right to choose his own path. He only hoped that Noah chose to contact him again.

Chapter Ten

Noah didn’t even have to ask Ronan to give him a ride back to the corner where they had met. After Noah tucked away his business card, Ronan led the way out of the house and into the garage. They donned their helmets, climbed on the bike, and they were off. Silence reigned during the trip. Noah hung on to Ronan without being obvious he was trying to imprint the feel of him on his hands. If nothing else, he wanted to remember what it was like to feel Ronan’s masculine power so close to his body.

Ironically, during the ride, Noah wasn’t worried about anyone seeing him and suspecting what he was by the way he touched Ronan. It wasn’t fully dark yet, but traffic was busy and people seemed oblivious to them. Or maybe the change was in his own perception. Noah wasn’t certain.

Since Noah didn’t want to bother Ronan with the details of where he’d parked, he had him drop him at the corner. His car was a block over on a residential street. Once Ronan stopped the bike, he stood up to make it easier for Noah to climb off, which he did. He then took off his helmet and put in in the trunk. After he slammed the lid, he winced. The noise seemed to echo off the buildings. It wasn’t that late, but the shops were closed.

Ronan flipped up the shield of his helmet. “Good night, Noah. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Noah managed a nod and struggled not to whip his head around and see if anyone heard Ronan. Again, he knew no one could possibly know what they’d done together, but the curious fear remained. Before he could do anything more than step back, Ronan was gone. Noah watched his taillights until they disappeared in traffic on Ninth.

Tears blurred his vision. He felt relieved and afraid. He’d survived his foray into the leather-and-chrome world of BDSM. Not only that, but he’d found an astonishing amount of light in that world. He’d assumed it would all be dark, dank, and ultimately dismal. It wasn’t. He’d touched a part of his soul that would never be the same.

Turning toward the direction where his car was parked, Noah put one foot in front of the other, taking deliberate steps. He felt fragile and unbalanced. As strange as the thought was, Noah felt that if he fell, he’d shatter. If that happened, nothing in the world, not even his brown-eyed Dom, could put him back together again.

Once he made it back to his car, he retrieved his keys from his pocket, unlocked the door, climbed in, shut the door, and locked it. He sat there for so long he wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw him.

“They’d know what I was doing out here, what I was sitting here considering.” Noah laughed and did what Ronan suggested. He took that notion and pushed it to an extreme. If a man in one of the nearby houses knew what Noah was thinking about in his car, he’d stride out, bang on the window, and demand to know what was wrong with Noah. And Noah would…he would…

“Put the key in the ignition and drive away.”

As long as he didn’t get out of the car and the man had no way in, he’d be safe. He could just go.

“If only it were that simple in the rest of my life.”

It wasn’t the first time Noah had considered simply disappearing. When Sarah vanished, he’d been terrified someone had killed her. He’d heard stories about homosexuals being beaten and killed by rabid homophobes. When he found out Sarah had simply moved away, he hadn’t actually felt relieved. For some bizarre reason, Noah imagined her in the gutter, drinking from a brown-paper-bag-wrapped bottle, the marks of her shame clear for all to see. When he’d asked his mother for more information on Sarah, just to ease his troubled mind, she’d given him a look that cautioned him from ever asking another question. At least any regarding gay church members who were no longer around. Sarah wasn’t the only one, just the only one Noah knew personally.

Rather than sit on the street attracting attention, Noah fired up his eminently practical Honda Civic and drove home. When he arrived at his apartment building, the new loud and unbelievably rude neighbor was parked in his assigned spot. Again. He’d asked Keith Kellerman to respect the rules, which he said he would, but then he immediately turned around and said he just needed the spot for a minute to bring in groceries. Funny how he never could seem to move his car when he was done. Too tired to go and knock on Keith’s door, Noah parked in the back of the lot in one of the visitor’s spots. He didn’t have anything to carry, but he just felt irritated because Keith was taking advantage of him. Everyone always did. Noah was a nice guy, and apparently that mean he was there to be used.

Instead of pounding up the steps like most of his neighbors, Noah padded quietly up to the third floor. He unlocked his door, stepped inside, and locked the door behind him. The small blue lamp by the couch was on, casting a warm glow over the front room. He had it set on a timer so that whether he was home or not, it would come on. It generally didn’t matter much in the summer since the sun was up late, but in the winter it was nice to come home to a lighted apartment. Dispelling the darkness made him feel less alone.

Sometimes he even pretended there was someone there to greet him. No matter how tempting the fantasy, Noah had always forced himself to imagine his partner was a woman. He hoped that eventually he’d actually feel that way. Something or other he’d read on the Internet had talked about thought restructuring or something like that. It was some kind of pray-the-gay-away site that had suggested if he thought about being with a woman repeatedly, he would make himself desire women over men. Noah had gleaned whatever information he could and diligently applied their suggestions to his life. Nothing changed. He was sexually attracted to men, and he knew that wasn’t going to change no matter what happened.

After what Ronan said tonight, about BDSM being therapy, Noah wondered if there was a way to change his orientation using that technique. While he leaned against the front door and tried to picture what had happened with Ronan happening with a woman, Noah didn’t feel one flicker of arousal. For some sick reason, all he could think of was his Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Santera, dressed in her usual style of peplum tops and clinging skirts, only in this scenario they were black leather. She wore the same cat’s-eye glasses, though, and in his twisted fantasy, they seemed to go along with the outfit.

“Ew. Just, no.” Noah dismissed the thought. He wasn’t interested in doing that with a woman. He wanted to do that again with Ronan. Noah pulled his phone, keys, and wallet from his clothing and put everything in the wicker bowl. His mother insisted on giving him a small table that sat by the door with the bowl on top. If he always put his things there, he would never lose them. Noah couldn’t really enter the house until he’d deposited the contents of his pockets in that bowl. He supposed his mother thought one day his wife would make sure he had all his things before he left the house. It would break her heart to find out that wasn’t ever going to happen.

Feeling saddened and defeated, Noah went toward his bedroom, turning on the lights as he went. He didn’t like to be in the apartment with the lights off. He felt even more alone in the dark than he did otherwise. After taking off his clothing, he carefully hung it up, all the while thinking of how he’d performed the same motions with Ronan watching him.

Shivering, Noah stripped down to nothing and then stood there facing his closet. In his mind, Ronan was behind him. Using that powerful voice of his, Ronan ordered Noah onto the bed. He assumed almost the same position he had during their session. Facedown on the twin bed, Noah had his ass up high, waiting for Ronan to slap him. Noah was just getting into the fantasy when he realized he’d left his bag of gear at Ronan’s house.

“Aw, man.” Yanked out of the pretend scene, Noah climbed to his feet. He was just as hard as he’d been earlier, but if he was going to get relief, he’d have to give it to himself.

Had Ronan deliberately forgotten to get the bag from the playroom? Noah shook his head. Ronan had plenty of his own toys. He didn’t need Noah’s items. Besides, it wasn’t Ronan’s fault. Noah was an adult who should have remembered to get all his things before he left.

“And maybe, just maybe, you left them there on purpose.”

One thing Noah had certainly learned today was that he had to be very clear about his needs and intentions with Ronan. He couldn’t mumble and hope that Ronan would guess. He had to say exactly what he needed. Noah wondered if he did that more often—communicating clearly what he needed—certain aspects of his life might improve. He supposed if he couldn’t be honest with himself, his hopes for being that way with others was pretty unlikely. Had he left his items at Ronan’s so that, no matter what, he would have to go back at least once?

“But the cost.” Noah considered his already strained budget. He was struggling to save for the down payment on a house. He had amassed a good chunk of change, but maybe he could dip into his funds a bit. Not a lot. Just enough for a few sessions. If what had happened today could be repeated, he might be able to move into a bigger and better job because he’d have more confidence. That would make the money well spent and easily replaceable.

Noah couldn’t help but realize if he had more courage, he wouldn’t have had to pay Ronan at all, but he simply couldn’t allow himself to become emotionally invested. As much as he’d like to try dating a man, especially one as compelling as Ronan, Noah didn’t think doing so while he was living near his parents was a good idea. Provo and Salt Lake City seemed like big places, but they were much smaller than they appeared. Noah couldn’t count the number of times he’d encountered fellow ward members when he’d been out and about. It was no wonder he felt watched everywhere he went. It seemed the eyes of the church were all over Utah.

Noah went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of underwear and a T-shirt. It was too hot to sleep in anything else, and as kinky as he’d been today, he didn’t think he could sleep in the nude. What if there was a fire? No, it was best to have at least some clothing on. Since he was probably going to be up for a while, he pulled on a pair of shorts, too. But if he were sleeping with Ronan, he’d probably feel safe enough to sleep naked. Or maybe Ronan wouldn’t let him into that big bed of his with all his clothes on.