What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (30 page)

“You met Jake McNamara on a bondage sex site?”

It seemed the lobby had gone completely silent and Jake’s name was echoing off the marble walls. I shook my head, looking around. The lobby was just as noisy and no one was even within earshot. But I pulled Leslie behind a potted plant.

“Leslie, you need keep this quiet. He didn’t want me to tell anyone about that part of our relationship.”

The skepticism on Leslie’s face was obvious. “He wants to keep your relationship a secret? Is that some bondage fetish rule? Why can’t you talk about it?”

She was standing with her hands on her hips, looking like a stern librarian and I’d been caught giggling in the stacks. I expected her to pull out a rule and wrap my knuckles.

“Not me, not the public relationship, but the BDSM part. He’s a public figure; your reaction should be enough to know why this can’t really be public knowledge.”

Leslie relaxed. “Yeah. Okay. I get that part.” She looked closely at me, skepticism replaced by concern.

“Are you sure this is good for you, Abby? Secrets and whips and handcuffs? All for a fuck or two?”

Leslie’s use of the word fuck was rare but always well placed. I sighed.

“Yes, it is…or it will be. And it’s not just for ‘a fuck or two’. I think there’s going to be a whole lot more to this.” I took her arm, pulling her out from behind the ficus tree.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch and tell you all the gory details. But only this once. No more after this.”

I was puttering around in the kitchen that evening, cleaning up after dinner, when the phone rang. Snatching it up, I glanced at the caller ID; Private Caller.
Discreet guy.

“Hello?” My voice sounded breathless, even to me.

“Hi, Abby. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

My heart did that flip-flop thing again.
Maybe I have a medical condition
.

“No, this is fine. I’m done with dinner and not really interested in doing the dishes.” I sat down on the couch. Something poked me in the back. Reaching behind me, I fished
50 Shades of Grey
out from between the cushions. I smiled to myself as I held the book in my lap.

“I really enjoyed last night, Abby. Very much. I’m hoping we can get together fairly soon. I’m very anxious to have a session with you.” I heard him laugh softly. “I’m really interested in seeing you, period, truth be told.”

I smiled into the phone. “I’m anxious to see you…to have a session with you.”

“We talked about last night about this, Abby. But I want to make sure we still agree, before we go any further.” His voice had gone serious.

“We agreed our interaction wouldn’t stray away from the rather strict confines of the dominant and submissive relationship. Outside of that relationship, there may be times when I will ask you to accompany me to public events. In those instances, unless we’ve agreed on anything different, I would like you to be my guest, under no constraints or conditions. Do you agree with this? Is that how you’ve understood what we’re doing here?”

I hesitated. This was what I wanted, above all, to not become so entangled with a man that I got my heart broken again. Some deep part of me wanted to use Jake, to take from him what pleasure I could and explore my own desires.

A tiny part of my heart sank though, the little bit of the incurable romantic in me wanting to view Jake as my romantic partner. I held back that part, shoving it far away from what was being presented to me now.

“I do understand and I agree. And I appreciate your honesty. I think we’re totally on the same page.”

“Great. Let’s see…it’s already mid-week. Should we start on Friday? I have the sense I’d like this first session to be relaxed, no worrying about work the next day. You may need some aftercare, some recovery time, depending on what we do. I want to make sure to make you feel as safe and cared for as possible.”

My heart was racing.
Aftercare? Like medical care?
I think there was some research I need to do before Friday. My throat was suddenly dry, my voice coming out as a small croak. I tried again.

“Yes, Friday is fine.”

Jake gave me his address and private cell phone number, along with his currently blocked home phone number. I was familiar with the suburb where he lived; it was outside the center of Houston, the land of million dollar homes on huge lots. I swallowed hard.

After the phone call, my mind was numb. Was this what I wanted?
Yes
. And did I want this with Jake?
Absolutely.

Then why was my heart pounding and my palms damp?

The Internet is a wonderful place; sometimes it’s also very scary. I found a good site devoted to the BDSM lifestyle. There was a great deal to take it. I did learn what aftercare entailed, relieved to learn it would be Jake’s reasonability to see that I was okay after a session, that I wouldn’t just be sent home to deal with…whatever I had to deal with.

My Internet searches led me through a wide variety of sites, the most fascinating having to do with elaborate knot tying. I tried to imagine being restrained by Jake in this way, patiently sitting while the rope was looped and tied into intricate knots and patterns. I got panicky now when I got tangled in my sweater sleeves or the bed sheets. I wasn’t sure I could tolerate being so firmly trussed, even if the knot work was so beautiful.

I left work early on Friday. I wanted to take my time getting ready for my first session with Jake. We had talked late Thursday evening. Jake had called to see how I was, telling me again how excited he was to see me the next evening.

“Don’t worry, Abby,” he said, again in that voice that made my heart flutter.

I’d assured him I wasn’t worrying, but my voice gave me away.

“Do you want to back out? You can if you want. You’re under no contract or obligation.” I could hear the change in his voice. “Just be honest. That’s all I ask.”

“No, Jake. I don’t want to back out. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Maybe that’s what I feel and what you’re hearing in my voice.” I realized I was had picked up the
50 Shades
book again. I had been worrying the cover between my fingers; the corner was almost torn off. I tossed the book to the other end of the couch.

“We’ll start slow. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to have happen.”

“I know, Jake,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine once we start. Nerves, and anticipation are getting the better of me at the moment.”

We’d said goodnight and I’d spent another restless night, fighting with the bedcovers, dreaming of serpentine knots and snakes.

Jake had given me the passcode to the gate at the end of his driveway. I punched the number into the keypad and the tall iron gates swung open. I had clients who lived out here, but I’d never actually been to their homes.

I drove up the long sweeping drive toward the cream colored Italianate villa. In the soft spring twilight the building was colored almost the same pale pink as the inside of a shell. Jake had said to drive to the right of the main entrance and park beneath the portico. I did as instructed.
Already being a good submissive, Abby. Good girl.

The huge wrought iron trimmed glass door to my left opened as I stepped out of the car and Jake walked out, bathed in the glow from the lights beneath the portico. He was dressed in jeans and a soft white shirt, open at the collar. The whole image was relaxed and sexy, including the smile on his face. That charming smile that I bet had gotten more women out of their clothes than I cared to know about.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel his body heat, smell him. Not the scent of cologne; I didn’t think he was wearing any. But it was his smell, rich and masculine, warm and inviting. I drew in a deep breath.

“Abby, welcome to my home.” He seemed to hesitate and then bent his head to kiss my lips. I must have looked puzzled when he stepped back. He smiled.

“Come on it. Let’s get comfortable and we can talk a bit.”

He took my hand, leading me through the door. I heard the deep clunk of the latch sliding home. For some reason, I thought of castles, knights in armor and lady’s virtues. The image slid away though as he took me through a maze of rooms, none of which seemed to have a square corner. I saw a kitchen, what looked like a butler’s pantry, a dining room, another room I couldn’t really identify, and finally to a relatively small room down a short hallway.

This room was gorgeous, darkly paneled, and vaguely Gothic but extremely comfortable looking. One wall was dominated by a fireplace, a small fire crackling on the hearth. The opposite wall looked out through floor to ceiling windows on a large expanse of grass and trees, which resembled a park more than a suburban backyard.

The furnishings were all inlaid wood pieces, several chairs, a sofa and a loveseat, all covered in a masculine mix of deep reds and olive green fabric, along with an apparently lovingly worn leather chair by the fire. The carpet was an Oriental, creams, reds and greens, echoing the colors of the furniture. It looked inviting, cozy and rich all at the same time.

Jake let me take this all in, finally pulling me down to the floor in front of the fire. I realized he’d been holding my hand ever since I’d arrive. And I also saw he was pulling me down onto a thick fleecy rug.

“I want us to work on trust tonight, Abby. I need you to trust me and I need to learn to trust myself.” He waited for me to get settled, sitting directly across from me.

“I thought I would start by giving you a massage, something to allow you to get comfortable with me, allow me to explore your body in a safe way, before we move into anything too heavy.”

I nodded. He seemed to want to control this evening and I was willing to go along. But my inner voice was busy explaining to me about my insecurity at being naked, without the benefit of bed covers or sheets or darkness.

And again, my face gave me away.
There’s a reason why you always lose at poker. Everything you think flashes on your face.

“What is it, Abby? You need to tell me or this isn’t going to work.” He took my hands in his. “And I want this to work, for both of us.”