Authors: M.Q. Barber
“No, he’s into women, I guess. Maybe not totally, okay, I don’t know. But he
is
totally into being in control. And it’s fantastic. Tie-me-up-and-spank-me fantastic.”
“You’re being serious.” Olivia stared as if Alice were something new and different and not the sister she’d known her entire life. “You let this guy tie you up and hit you.”
There was some sort of satisfaction in shocking her little sister.
“Not always,” she said, her voice as bland as she could make it. “Sometimes he blindfolds me and does whatever he likes. It’s in the contract.”
“Contract? Is he paying you for sex? Jesus, Allie, what the hell have you been doing?”
“What he wants me to.” Holding back her smile was a challenge. Olivia deserved this. Pushy little sisters needed a reminder sometimes that they were still the
little
sister. “And no, he’s not paying for it.”
“It sounds like this guy’s forcing you to do things–”
“No.” Her amusement fled. Torturing her sister was all well and good, but letting her think the worst of Henry was wrong. “That’s not true.”
Henry hadn’t forced her to do anything. He’d enticed her, yes. Excited her. Encouraged her. Explored things she would’ve never tried on her own. But he’d done it by showing her she wanted to do those things. He’d painted pictures with his words and baited the hook with Jay and himself. She hadn’t been coerced, and she sure as shit hadn’t been forced.
“You’re just letting him do what he wants? Doing whatever he tells you to? Like a slave or something.”
“It’s not like that. The things he tells me to do are things I want to do. If I don’t, I can say so, and he’ll stop.” She hadn’t tested that, but she believed without proof. Henry hadn’t hit her limits. More territory ripe for exploration lay ahead.
“I swear, Ollie, I’m perfectly safe. Probably the safest and happiest I’ve ever been. I’m just exploring stuff. And so are they. And eventually they’ll get tired of it, or I will, and we’ll go our separate ways.” Not something she wanted to think about.
She let Olivia interrogate her for an hour before her baby sister seemed satisfied she wasn’t being used or abused. And then she interrogated Ollie about her internship, whether her surgical rotation was turning out the way she’d hoped, if she still thought it was the specialty she wanted, and if she was eating enough and getting enough sleep.
“This is my punishment for asking you so many questions, isn’t it?”
She laughed, and agreed it was, and the conversation wound down with promises to talk again soon. Once her sister’s face had faded from the screen, Alice stepped into a long-delayed shower. The steam heightened the mingled scents of Henry and Jay, the leather and citrus and mossy evergreen musk, on her skin until she washed them away.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong by putting her sex life in Henry’s hands. He was a creative, adventurous lover. Dominant, not lover, she corrected. She enjoyed their time together. She wasn’t guilty about finding unconventional sexual fulfillment, and she wasn’t worried about her physical safety.
Henry was meticulous about respecting limits and ensuring he didn’t hurt her beyond what she wanted and could handle. If she had some emotional pain, it was no worse than any relationship where one partner wanted greater commitment and the other didn’t. And that was practically every relationship.
At least she had the benefit of knowing there was no hope. Henry and Jay had each other. No matter how fun she was in bed, she’d never take either’s place in the relationship.
But Ollie might be right about the other thing she’d said near the end of their talk. Maybe Alice did need to look for a more permanent relationship, one where she wasn’t the third wheel. She could be more open to that.
Ugh. Sitting at a bar for hours? Trying to make a meaningful connection with a stranger when she already had two friends who knew her well and found her compatible in bed?
I’ll think about it, Ollie. But no promises.
* * * *
Alice had almost talked herself into attending the office Christmas party and trying to make a new friend when one of Henry’s short notes appeared on her door Thursday. Not Friday. Not even a contract week at all. Something non-sex-related? A friendship thing? If it was, it would be the first since August.
Jay had kept up their Tuesday lunches, but she hadn’t spent time with Henry outside of contract nights in months. Not unless she counted running into him on her way out the door in the morning. She missed their casual talks, learning from him, making him laugh. Nothing she
needed
, but something she wanted. If he wanted it too, he’d have said something, wouldn’t he?
Asking him to spend time with her now would’ve been like stealing time from Jay. Jay, who’d already been so sweet about sharing Henry’s bed with her.
She curled up in her everything chair. One of Henry’s pieces from basement storage, so named because it was the only chair in her apartment aside from the two with the little table she called her kitchen. The chair where she sat to read or listen to music or just relax. Everything.
The dark leather upholstery on a high back supported her head, and the deep seat made ample room for her legs. Broad, flat, wooden arms as dark as the leather proved perfect for stacking books or balancing a laptop. The chair better suited to a den cradled her in warmth and surrounded her with the faint smell of leather. The perfect place to read Henry’s note.
She laughed at the contents. He requested the honor of her presence at Sunday brunch, to be served in his apartment promptly at eleven thirty. Responses were to be regrets only, which meant he assumed she’d be attending. He wanted her default answer to be yes. How encouraging. She forgot all about scoping out potential date prospects at the cross-department Christmas party Friday and declined invitations to the various after-parties. Sunday brunch couldn’t arrive fast enough to suit her.
* * * *
Jay threw open the door with a grin. She’d arrived a few minutes early, but he didn’t seem to care. Pulling her in by the hand, he shouted over his shoulder as he closed the door. “Hennn-ry! Your brunch date’s here.”
Date? He meant that casually, didn’t he? She stomped on the thrill the word invoked.
A gentle shove earned her a faux-wounded look and a teasing rub at his shoulder. A second got her pouty Jay-lips and dancing fingers threatening to tickle.
The temptation too much, she dove into playing shoving match, though her pushes couldn’t budge Jay’s wide-legged stance. Dodging his attacks on her ribs, she caught a glimpse of Henry in the dining room, carrying a platter heaped high with what might be crepes or wraps or one of his crazy culinary experiments with some foreign-sounding name.
“Good morning, Alice. Do forgive Jay.” Henry set the plate on the overloaded dining room table. “He’s been particularly obnoxious thus far today, and he seems to find shouting necessary despite the scant distance between us.”
“He’s only been obnoxious today?” she teased, wandering over to the table. “Has he been on a vacation from it every other day?”
“I’m afraid I must have forgotten to slip the sedatives into his food today.” Henry winked at her.
“Cute, very cute, you guys.” Jay snatched a piece of bacon and fit the entire thing in his mouth at once, chewing and swallowing with rapacious hunger. “You should be nicer, what with me getting out of your hair for hours.”
“You’re leaving?” If brunch was just her and Henry, that explained Jay’s warm leggings and long-sleeved thermal top. Biking gear.
“Yup. I got to eat my breakfast before the grown-ups.” He stuck out his tongue. “I’m planning a long ride. Really long. A long, hard ride. For hours. You should try it sometime.”
Jay’s smirk made her wonder if Henry had planned the same for her. Without the bike. Was brunch a prelude to sex? Maybe she wasn’t about to have a chance to sit and enjoy his company. Maybe everything between them had to be about sex now.
“Honestly, Jay.” Henry’s voice. Disapproving. “If you’ve finished your plate, take it to the sink, please.”
“Sorry, Henry.” Jay didn’t sound contrite, but he cleared his place setting. “I just thought Alice should know she could try out fun activities. After brunch. Or whenever she wanted. It was only a…um…helpful suggestion.”
“Mind your suggestions don’t land you in trouble, my boy.” Henry gestured toward the dining room. “Alice, please, have a seat. I recommend the crepes. Fresh fruit and toppings are on the table. Would you care for juice or coffee?”
“Juice, please.” She sat and helped herself, more nervous than she’d been when she’d knocked. A sense of expectation rose in her, an uncertainty about the purpose for this meal.
“Okay, I’m going before the boring grown-up talk starts.” Jay swooped in and planted a kiss on Alice’s cheek, whispering, “Have fun” in her ear before he removed his bike from its wall hooks and headed out the door. “See you in hours. Lots of hours.”
She stared at her plate and toyed with her fork when Henry brought the carafe of juice to the table and filled her glass. And while he seated himself and laid his napkin across his lap and made his selections. He cut a piece from his crepe. He’d put blueberries and maple syrup on his. She’d topped hers with strawberries and whipped cream. His fork settled back to his plate with a
clink
, the bite of crepe uneaten.
“Jay’s insinuations aside, my dear, I would very much enjoy having a pleasant Sunday brunch with you. There is no obligation or expectation for anything more. I’ve a matter I wish to discuss with you. Perhaps I ought to broach it now, before your anxiety becomes unmanageable, but I won’t do so when you cannot even look at me, Alice.”
She remembered Jay’s words, wrapped a gag around her nerves and raised her head to meet Henry’s gentle smile. She smiled back. “Boring grown-up talk?”
“Precisely that.” He picked up his fork and pointed at her plate. “Can I persuade you to relax and at least try your brunch first?”
She tried a bite of crepe with strawberries and whipped cream. Light, fluffy, delicious, with a creamy lemon filling that sharpened the berries’ sweetness. As if she’d expected anything less from Henry’s kitchen. Cooking was a science for her, and a rare one at that. Follow the recipe, measure twice and add once, get the same result every time. It must be an art for Henry, though. Flavor and color and texture balanced on his whims. She swallowed and sipped her juice. Pineapple-orange, the sweetness cutting the acidity, but tart enough to match the balance of the crepes.
“Well. I’d heard amazing things about the crepes. The server recommended them to me personally.” She glanced at Henry. His smile seemed to hold back a chuckle, and his attention stayed fixed on her face. “So of course I expected the praise would be overblown. They couldn’t possibly live up to that reputation. But…”
She cut another bite and swirled the fork in the whipped cream. “As it turns out, they’re even better.”
“Indeed? I’ll have to verify it for myself, I suppose.”
They ate in a much more comfortable silence as she allowed herself to relax. Henry offered her a bite of his blueberry-and-maple concoction, feeding her from his own fork. She agreed the taste mimicked a slice of blueberry pie wrapped in a short stack. He educated her on the blueberries. Organic, handpicked in Maine, frozen for freshness.
She tried not to moon over him like a teenager with a crush.
This was the Henry she’d been missing, the friend who inquired about her work and asked after her sister. The one who confided he was making significant progress on a project he’d started a few months earlier and that he hoped to put together a show in the spring.
He was vague about the subject matter, but then Henry rarely discussed his art. The door to his studio was always closed. Even Jay professed to never have seen works in progress, only the finished pieces at Henry’s shows or the ones hanging on the apartment walls.
Eventually the talk came back to Henry’s purpose for inviting her. Which, as it turned out, was sex-related, but not in the way she’d thought.
“I do apologize, Alice. We simply won’t be able to stay in the city Friday night owing to family obligations for the Christmas holiday.”
“No, I get it, that’s not a problem.” Henry and Jay had family nearby, and they probably juggled schedules to make the holiday work for both of them. It wasn’t their fault Christmas would interrupt her contract schedule. She wouldn’t expect them to bring her home to meet their families.
God, what would that conversation look like?
Hi Mom, hi Dad, meet Alice, the girl we fuck sometimes. She’s staying for Christmas.
Yeah, that would go over great.