Bound to be Dirty (25 page)

Twenty-eight

L
ily felt like an automaton as she walked into the warm, welcoming ambiance of the Copper Chimney. George had chosen the Indian fusion restaurant and bar for the club's first meeting of the new year, and she and Marielle were sitting in a corner table at the back. Side by side on a bench seat—the way Lily and Dax had sat on New Year's Eve—in animated conversation, they didn't see Lily. No surprise; she felt like a shadow of her real self.

So far, she'd spent the statutory holiday summarizing her and Dax's finances, then had taken the relevant documents to the clinic to photocopy. From the Internet, she selected a divorce lawyer and e-mailed to request an appointment. The lawyer had been working—or at least checking e-mail—today, and now Lily had an appointment for late Wednesday afternoon.

Divorce. She and Dax were getting a divorce. She no longer felt shattered, as she had on New Year's Eve. Now she was numb and empty, but for persistent dull aches in head and heart. As a doctor, she understood shock, physical and emotional. It could take time for reality to sink in, for the most profound pain to make itself felt—and when it did, it could bring you to your knees. She had to keep that from happening, had to hold herself together. Not only did she still have issues at the clinic to deal with, but there'd be all the hassle involved with a divorce.

She'd have to tell her parents. They'd say, “You should have listened when we said you shouldn't marry him.”

On leaden feet, she approached George and Marielle's table. At least she had this hour of distraction and she'd do her best to enjoy it.

“Hi, Lily,” George said. “Happy New Year.” Marielle echoed the greeting. They both looked happy and vibrant, George in a blue sweater that made her red hair even fierier, and dark-haired Marielle in a pink and orange striped top.

“You too.” Lily took the chair across from Marielle and shrugged out of her coat. A new year, and everything felt overwhelming. Hopeless, almost. But she was strong; she'd always been strong. It was one of the qualities Dax said he admired in her.

“Are you all right?” George's amber eyes narrowed with concern. “You look, uh, tired.”

“I am.” So tired that she'd like to lay her head on the table and sleep. Except she wouldn't sleep. For the past two nights, she hadn't. What she needed was conversation, a stimulating analysis of the issues raised in
Bound by Desire
. A martini.

The waitress arrived at the same time that Kim hurried in and took the chair beside Lily. Today, the highlights in her spiky black hair were yellow and the design on her scarf looked like bird wings in yellow, orange, and black.

They ordered drinks and snacks then Kim pulled envelopes from her canary-yellow bag. “We're having an engagement party!”

Just what Lily needed. She ripped open the envelope and, despite her misery, Kim's artwork almost brought a smile. The artist who was fascinated by wings and was marrying a cowboy had incorporated a dragonfly and a horse in the design. A quick glance showed that Marielle's and George's cards had similar motifs, but each was unique.

Lily opened the card. The party was a week from now. “Monday? Instead of book club?”

“I figured you'd all be free, and we did finish the book a week early, right?”

“Right. I'm surprised you found a venue on such short notice.”

George raised a hand. “Woody's and my condo. Luckily, he'll be in town and doesn't have a game.”

“Marielle found a terrific caterer,” Kim said. “A recent graduate who's setting up his own business. I swear, Marielle knows everyone.”

“You tease me about how I keep changing jobs,” Marielle said, “but I learn something at each one, and I make contacts. Whatever you need, I bet I can find it for you.”

“That's a valuable asset,” Lily said. “You should be a concierge.”

“Or a personal shopper,” Kim put in.

“Guess I should think about what I'm going to do next,” Marielle said cheerfully. “The holiday's over.” She turned to Kim. “Your parents going to hang around town for the party?”

“No, they went back to Hong Kong this morning. They hate leaving their company for too long. Ty's folks are coming, though, and some ranch staff and friends from the Fraser Valley. Lily, Dax is invited, of course. And Marielle, feel free to bring one of your various admirers.”

“Dax has gone back to the mining camp,” Lily said. No, she wasn't telling them about the divorce. Not until . . . She had no idea when she'd feel ready to talk about it.

“Too bad,” George said. “It's hard having Woody go on road trips. I can't imagine what it's like to have Dax away for weeks.”

Or forever. “Let's talk about the book,” Lily said firmly.

The waitress served their drinks and she reached for her martini. Given how tired she was, she probably shouldn't drink alcohol, but she didn't give a damn. After she SkyTrained home, maybe she'd have another drink or two, take headache meds, and actually sleep.

George had her usual winter drink, a glass of red wine; Kim, her typical fancy beer. Marielle generally went with a fruity, girly drink, but this time her cocktail was pale brown and creamy. Lily hadn't paid attention when the others ordered, so now asked, “What is that, Marielle?”

“Chocolate Godiva martini. Pure bliss. Want to taste?”

“I do,” Kim promptly said, and George said, “Me too.” Marielle passed the glass, and the other women took sips from separate parts of the rim and made approving sounds. When Lily took her turn, rich, creamy, chocolaty sweetness hit her tongue. “Bliss indeed.” It was as sinful and delicious as sex with Dax. Maybe rather than a second martini, she' d have one of these. But no, not if it reminded her of Dax.
Focus, Lily
. “Everyone finished the book?”

They all nodded, and Kim said, “It made me think about how everyone has different sexual needs. Cassandra didn't even know what she needed until Neville enlightened her.” She gave a mischievous grin. “After all, that's what a good boyfriend's for.”

“I didn't like Neville,” Lily said, “but I get it that Cassandra needed certain things to, uh, break through her inhibitions.”

“How do you mean?” Kim asked.

“The commands and restraints, they took responsibility away from her. She chose to put herself in Neville's hands, and then she was free to go wherever he took her.” Lily thought of the different ways she and Dax had made love over the past week and a half, the things she'd learned about her own sexuality. Would she ever have sex again? She couldn't imagine being with anyone other than Dax. She took another sip of her martini.

“And he took her where she needed to go,” Marielle said. “Where, if you'll pardon the expression”—she winked—“no man had gone before. Thanks to him, she found the kind of sexual satisfaction she'd never experienced.”

“Like I said, a good boyfriend,” Kim agreed.

“But Neville said he
owned
her,” George said. “He made her say it.”

“That's the kind of thing that made me not like him,” Lily commented.

Kim nodded. “Yeah, that's going too far. But he also said they belonged to each other. That sense of belonging is powerful.”

“Only if two people are equal,” Lily said. “It's one thing to initiate her sexually and look after her pleasure, but he treated her like a pet that he owned.”

Marielle leaned forward. “Speaking as a former dog walker, I gotta say, some people are as owned by their pets as vice versa. Those animals have them wrapped around their little paws.”

“A cute sentiment, but the owner's in control,” Lily said briskly. “If the owner doesn't feed the pet, the pet starves.”

“Okay,” Marielle said, “but with Neville and Cassandra it's a balance of control. Yeah, he's commanding her and doing stuff to her, but it's the stuff she wants done, the stuff that gives her the sexual intensity she's been craving. She needs that dom stuff, even the pain, to experience true pleasure. Besides, if he's no longer turning her crank, she can always say the safe word and he has to stop. So doesn't she have the ultimate control?”

“No,” George said. “That safe word thing is a head game. Neville's a bully, a rich, sophisticated, skilled one, but still a bully, and he makes her dependent on him. It's, like, sexual blackmail. If she says her safe word, yes, he'll stop—but then she'll feel crappy for not pleasing him, not to mention she won't get her orgasm.”

“I agree,” Lily said. “That's not equality.” Lily's relationship with Dax had always been one of equals, each in control of their own life. But they'd also never really shared their lives. Having taken the first steps to doing that at Whistler, she now understood how seductive the notions of belonging and sharing could be.

“Yeah, but he won't get his orgasm either,” Marielle said. “He needs her for his sexual pleasure just as much as she needs him. And George, you said she'd feel crappy for not pleasing him, but I bet that goes both ways. Men have performance anxiety, right? Well, imagine how bad a dom must feel if he doesn't satisfy his woman. Besides—”

She broke off as the waitress returned, and deftly slid steaming plates onto the center of the table. “Crab cakes, a naan pizza, and samosas. Enjoy, ladies.”

“Besides,” Marielle took up where she left off. “If Cassandra's unhappy with him, she can always leave.” She transferred a crab cake to her side plate.

“Oh sure,” George said. “Like a battered wife can walk out and go to a shelter? It's not that easy, Marielle.”

Lily guessed George was thinking of her fiancé's mother. Earlier this year the media had outed the true story of Woody's childhood. His father had abused him and his mom. His mother never left; she was only freed when her husband was killed in a bar fight.

“Women should be stronger than that,” Marielle said. “My mom and granny sure are.”

Hmm. Did the brunette's refusal to consider a capital “R” relationship have something to do with her father and grandfather?

“Sadly, some women are so powerless they don't see the possibility of escape,” Lily told Marielle. “You've heard of battered-woman syndrome? Often, they're so dependent—due to their husband's actions, maybe childhood abuse, perhaps lack of education and skills, even cultural or religious values—they can't imagine making their own way in the world. They may love their husband and believe he loves them. Maybe in some weird way he does. But even so, he's in the position of power and he's abusing that power.”

“I hear you,” Marielle said. “But Cassandra's well-educated, independent, a successful businesswoman who's traveled all over the world and slept with a bunch of men. I don't see her suddenly turning into someone who's so dependent she doesn't see options.”

“Good point,” Lily said.

“Think about Stockholm Syndrome,” George said. “Where hostages start to bond with their captor.”

“Neville isn't holding her hostage, George,” Kim, who'd been munching a slice of naan pizza, put in. “Or abusing her. He's giving her the sex that, as Marielle says, turns her crank like it's never been turned before, and offering her a lifestyle beyond her wildest dreams. He's her perfect guy. We may not be thrilled to bits with him, but she is. I don't think either one of them's in control, I think it's a balance of power.”

George blew out a long breath. “Look, I'm sorry if this offends anyone, but I think Neville and Cassandra have psychological problems. Something's happened in their pasts, like abuse or neglect, that's made them this way. He needs to have this total,
dominant
control over her and inflict pain in order to get off. And she needs to submit to his control and feel pain in order to have great orgasms. It's just not natural.”

They were all silent a moment, then Lily said, “Do you feel the same way about gays? That homosexuality isn't natural?”

“No!” George shook her head vigorously, wavy red hair tossing. “Of course not! I don't care what sex the partners in a relationship are.”

“But some people do think homosexuals are sick and unnatural,” Lily said.

“Oh,” George said slowly. “I see what you're saying. Who am I to judge other people's sexuality as long as they're consenting adults.”

“This stuff is complicated,” Kim said.

“Human sexuality is incredibly complicated,” Lily said. “I didn't even realize how complicated until we read this book.”

“I guess that means it was a good choice, Marielle,” George said. “But I sure didn't like it. Obviously, it pushed some hot buttons.”

“Hot enough that you're not even eating this yummy food.” The brunette gestured to the appetizer platters. “You either,” she said to Lily. Though Marielle and Kim had nibbled steadily, George and Lily had barely touched the snacks.

George served herself portions of everything, and Lily did the same, knowing she had to put calories in her body.

George cut a piece of samosa then put her fork down. “I want to apologize for that rant.” Her hazel eyes focused on Lily's face. “You put things in perspective with that comment about homosexuality. I like to think I'm not a prejudiced person, but my hot buttons really came into play here.”

“That's what's good about book club,” Kim said. “We read different things, share ideas, learn, grow as people. Hey, I was prejudiced against cowboys until Marielle chose
Ride Her, Cowboy
and suggested that rodeo field trip.”

“And now you're engaged to one,” Marielle said. “Yeah, read and learn, girls! Speaking of which, maybe none of us have discovered we're closeted subs, but has anyone made, you know, personal use of anything in the book?”

“No way,” George said firmly, picking up her fork again.