Читать книгу Bonds of Love - Sarah K - Страница 5

The restaurant was closed. It said so on a large blackboard that had been propped up against the wall outside the car park. I’d been so focused on the road and how to get to the place where we were meeting that the sign took me completely by surprise, so – mid-turn – I carried on turning and sailed into the car park, where a red-and-white striped barrier had been erected across the parking spaces and a small group of men with a van, high-visibility vests and hard hats were all gathered around what looked like a freshly dug hole outside the main entrance to the restaurant.

The main building was long and low with dormer windows set into the swooping roof, and it turned back on itself to enclose a little paved courtyard with tables and benches that caught the mid-morning sun. It would have been the perfect spot for lunch – if it had been open.

As I pulled to a halt another car pulled up alongside mine. Looking across at the driver I realised that it was Alex, who waved and smiled back at me and then rolled down his window.

‘Hi there. You found it all right then?’ he said, his face broadening into a smile. If anything he looked better than he had in his photo, which was a pleasant surprise. He was lightly tanned, with tousled sun-bleached hair and vibrant blue eyes.

I nodded. ‘Yes, thanks,’ I said. ‘And so did the water authority by the looks of it. Did you invite them?’

Alex laughed. ‘Bloody gatecrashers. It looks serious though. I’m thinking we might have to have a change of venue. If you want to wait here, I’ll just go and see what’s going on.’ He climbed out of his car, locked it and headed over towards the restaurant.

Being naturally nosey I got out and followed him. Alex was taller than I’d expected – don’t get me started on how many men lie about their height on online dating sites – and he was well built, with broad shoulders and long legs. He was wearing a blue-and-white checked open-neck shirt under a charcoal-grey jacket, with faded Levis and nice shoes, and so far was exactly as advertised in his profile. As we got to the barriers, he paused.

‘Nice to meet you, by the way,’ he said. There was something quite boyish about him, and although he wasn’t classically handsome he was nice looking, with a broad, generous mouth and very naughty eyes. I made myself take a calm, collected step back from all the approving noises my brain was making; we were playing it cool, remember? Slowly, slowly this time. I extended a hand. Alex shook it and as he did we both made a slightly awkward manoeuvre and then stepped closer, at which point he kissed me on the cheek.

‘This isn’t going quite how I planned,’ he added.

‘Well, that’s good. If you’re going to arrange some excitement I’d rather it didn’t involve –’ I was about to say a water leak when I got a whiff of whatever it was that was lurking in the bottom of the hole. ‘God, that smells awful.’

He laughed. ‘Anyway, I’m Alex. It’s nice to meet you at long last.’

‘Sarah,’ I said.

His grip was warm and firm and his hand so big that it swallowed mine whole. ‘Delighted, and you know you look just like your photo.’

‘Which is rare,’ I said ruefully.

He nodded. ‘You can say that again.’

‘You too. So far, so good.’

He grinned. ‘I think so.’

I had sent him a photo in response to his; I wanted Alex to recognise me when we met and also know what he was letting himself in for. Although I’m not overweight, I am a proper grown-up woman with curves and wrinkles, not a smooth stick insect. Lots of the men on both BDSM and ordinary websites are looking for women much younger than themselves, which is fine, but unless they’re in their dotage, I’m not one of them. Alex, who was in his mid-forties, had specified that he wanted to meet someone within three to five years of his age, which was also rare and suggested he was looking for something more than just the physical – well, I hoped that was what it meant.

He eased one of the barriers to one side. ‘I’m just going to nip inside and see if I can see –’ But before he could complete the sentence, a man in chef’s whites appeared from one of the service doors of the restaurant and hurried towards us, waving madly and grinning like a loon. Alex waved back.

‘No need, here he comes. This is the friend I was telling you about. His name’s Cash,’ Alex said. ‘And this place is his new baby. He and his partner bought it last year. They haven’t been open that long. I hope this water thing isn’t anything too serious. They’ve put every penny they’ve got into this place.’

‘Hello,’ said Cash, looking from face to face.

‘Bit extreme, isn’t it? Trying to keep us out, are you?’ said Alex to Cash, nodding towards the barriers.

‘We do our best to try and keep the riff-raff out,’ said the man, and then he slipped through a gap in the barriers and they embraced and slapped each other on the back in the way that men do. ‘I’m so sorry, mate. I did ring to try and let you know. It’s some sort of leak. We’ve had to close until they fix it. I left you a message first thing this morning but presumably you were too busy to pick it up.’ As he spoke, Cash smiled in my direction.

Following his gaze, Alex did the introductions. ‘Cash, this is Sarah, Sarah this is Cash. We go back years; Cash and I were at school together.’

‘Many moons ago now,’ said the man, taking my hand and pressing it to his lips. ‘Delighted to meet you. Any friend of Alex’s –’

Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t mind Cash, he always was a lech.’

Cash grinned. ‘I’m just so sorry that I can’t offer you lunch.’

‘Me too. Do they know what the problem is?’ asked Alex, glancing over towards the posse of workmen. ‘I hope it’s nothing serious.’

‘Me too. I’m losing money every minute that we’re closed.’

‘How long do they think it’s going to take?’

Cash shrugged. ‘No one seems to be able to give me a definitive answer. But better now than when the season starts, I suppose. They put a little camera down the pipe earlier and seem to think they’ve found the problem. It’s just a question of putting it right now. Anyway, enough about my drains. I can offer you a drink if you’d like one. It’d be good to catch up – but I can’t even rustle something up for you in the kitchen because they’ve turned the bloody water off, unless you fancy a sandwich.’

Alex glanced at me. ‘Nice offer, but we were hoping to sample the fish.’

‘I’m really sorry. Would you like a glass of something, maybe? We’ve got a great cellar.’ He tipped his head in invitation, while at the same time surreptitiously giving me the once over.

Clearly Alex hadn’t told Cash that he was meeting anyone, but it seemed Alex wasn’t going to give anything away. Instead he just sighed. ‘I’m afraid not Cash. We’re both driving so we can’t even take you up on the wine. And there was me telling Sarah how wonderful the food is here.’ He was teasing, laying on the disappointment with a trowel.

‘That’s right, he was,’ I said, playing along.

Cash pulled a face. ‘I’m so sorry. Another time. Next time the two of you are down this way come down and eat on the house. My treat.’

‘I’m going to hold you to that. I was trying to impress Sarah with my good taste and great connections.’

‘So are you two an item then?’ asked Cash.

I laughed.

‘What?’ Cash protested. ‘I’m always the last to know anything. Alex and I have been friends for years and he never tells me anything, so with him you don’t know if you don’t ask.’

Although Cash hadn’t done it intentionally, that struck a nerve; one of the big problems with the relationship I had with Max was that he kept everything close to his chest and kept different aspects of his life in separate compartments. The problems had started when the walls between them had started to crumble – and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go through that with someone else.

I had to remind myself that comparisons are never a good thing. Even without knowing that much about Alex, I could already tell that he and Max were like chalk and cheese.

Max was always very formal, old school, with a refined, restrained manner in public and in private, whereas Alex seemed relaxed and – I hunted around for the right words to describe how he seemed; the best I could come up with was that he seemed emotionally available and generous, rather than closed off.

While I was thinking, Cash was asking how long we’d known each other.

Alex looked heavenwards. ‘Excuse my friend,’ he said. ‘He always was nosey. If you must know, Cash, this is our first date and I brought Sarah here to impress her.’

‘So, failed at the first hurdle then,’ said Cash philosophically. ‘Don’t judge him too harshly, Sarah. He’s not so bad once you get to know him. Although I could tell you a few stories about when we were at –’

‘Well, don’t,’ said Alex, holding up a hand to silence him. ‘I’d like to think we can have more than one date. Anyway, I don’t know about Sarah but I’m absolutely famished, so as we’re not going to be eating here can you suggest somewhere else local where we can go?’ Alex asked.

Cash sighed. ‘You want me to recommend the opposition?’

Alex nodded. ‘Preferably open and not too far away.’

Cash now looked heavenwards. ‘Okay …’

Which was how we ended up sitting in a tiny little café on the seafront, less than a mile from Cash’s place, eating fish and chips out of the paper. The place itself looked as if it hadn’t changed much since the 1960s, but it was right on the promenade, was really busy and had the most fabulous view out over the sea, where that day the sky was so bright and so blue that it made my eyes water. Through the open door we could hear the gulls calling and squabbling as they spiralled above the incoming tide, while a flotilla of little boats bobbed at anchor in the tiny harbour.

The only place to eat inside the café was a high Formica-covered shelf that ran around the walls, which was about eighteen inches wide, dotted with glass salt and vinegar shakers and had bar stools tucked under it. Though the décor was very basic, nothing could detract from just how good the fish and chips were.

‘Your friend was right. This is amazing,’ I said, breaking off some more of the milky white fish flakes with my fingers and popping them into my mouth. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had fish and chips. It’s really delicious.’

Alex grinned. ‘It’s not exactly what I had in mind. I was planning to woo you with my sophisticated charms and fine dining. Not fish and chips and a can of Fanta.’

I liked his easy charm and the way he wasn’t fazed by the change of events and venue.

I smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’m really enjoying this.’

‘Me too,’ he said, guiding a chip into his mouth. ‘It’s really tasty.’

So far, despite the shaky start, it was going really well. Better than well. It might not have been posh nosh, but we were having a great time. Alex was good company: funny, quick, and he seemed easy-going. He had spent a lot of his life travelling for his job and had loads of stories to tell, which he managed to do without sounding as if he was bragging or showing off. He made me laugh and he was happy to listen – and I knew he really was listening by the things he asked me. So far, so good. Alex had quiet self-assurance that was attractive and nice eyes that were hard to ignore.

I’ve got lots of rules about internet dating, one of them being to have a safe call in place so that a friend knows where I am and that I’m okay – in my case it was a text from a friend. If I am okay, I text back a pre-arranged reply. Anything else, including no reply, and she calls out the cavalry. The pre-arranged text is also a painless way to cut a bad date short. It goes like this: the text comes in, I peer at the screen, pull an anxious face, make my excuses and leave. With Alex my text from Gabbie had come and gone and we were still talking.

We had told each other about our jobs and families and gone through all the niceties that need to be gone through, before moving on to what had really brought us together for lunch. It was just a question of who broached the subject first.

‘Have you been on many of these kinds of things?’ Alex asked, dipping a chip into a little pot of sauce.

‘You mean internet dates or trips to the chip shop?’

He laughed. ‘Let’s go with the dating first, shall we?’

‘A few. Some straight and some –’ I glanced over my shoulder at the other customers who were sitting no more than a couple of feet away from us, busily tucking into their own food. This was really not the place to go into the finer points of BDSM dating.

‘Not so straight,’ Alex suggested with a grin, catching my eye and, I suspect, my discomfort.

‘Exactly, and it’s been fun. I’ve met some really great people and some interesting ones and –’

‘And ones that developed into a relationship?’

I nodded. ‘Yes. Just the one.’

‘So far,’ Alex added with a smile.

‘Yes, so far,’ I conceded. ‘My last relationship, his name was Max and I met him online on the same site where you found my profile.’

‘And is this the one that was complicated?’

I nodded. ‘I’m glad you were listening. Yes, it was complicated, but it was also wonderful – really good. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

‘But it ended?’

‘I ended it,’ I said, and turned my attention back to my lunch.

I could see Alex watching my face, a clear invitation that he wanted to hear more, but I wasn’t ready to tell him about Max and most certainly not in a crowded chip shop at the seaside.

‘Long story,’ I said, after a moment or two’s silence. ‘It’s probably best saved for another time. How about you?’ I asked.

‘I’ve met a few women from the site we met on.’ He looked round at the two plump elderly women sitting behind me, both cheerfully devouring their cod and chips and apparently oblivious to our conversation. ‘Although I have done some online dating before. Tell you what,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy going for a walk once we’ve finished these? It might be easier to talk?’

Clearly he was right, but I hesitated before agreeing. Among my rules about internet dating is not putting myself in a situation where I’m alone with my date or away from other people.

I glanced out of the café window. Although it was late spring and the wind was fresh as it whipped in from the sea, there were quite a few people about, all well wrapped up against the cold, some of them walking dogs, some watching the boats bobbing about in the harbour, some just out for a stroll. Busy enough to be safe, I decided.

‘Okay,’ I said.

This meeting with Alex was very different from my first meeting with Max. When Max and I had met he had sent me a set of very precise instructions about how he wanted me to dress on our first date, and all kinds of formal terms and conditions about the nature of our relationship. When I’d asked Alex about what he wanted me to wear he’d said, ‘Wear anything you want; I just want to meet you and get to know you. See how we get along. For me, it’s about who you are, not whether you’ve got a mini-skirt and high heels on – although I like both of those things.’

So I’d taken Alex at his word and worn trousers and boots, which would have been a total no-no for Max, whose rules included my body being totally available to him whenever he wanted – so no bra, no knickers and stockings and suspenders or thigh-highs had been my standard subbie uniform, even in public, for all the time we were together, certainly not skinny jeans and boots.

For Max, who I was was important too, but the fact that I was prepared – from the very start – to do as he told me was also very important. Like I said, chalk and cheese.

I also realised that I had quite liked the rules and formality of Max’s approach as a Dom. It had been great training for someone with no experience of submission, and I wondered how I would deal with someone new who seemed to have a much more relaxed approach. When we had finished eating Alex gathered up the debris from our lunch, dropped it in the bin and then offered me his arm.

‘So,’ he said, as we set off along the promenade, ‘are you going to tell me about Max?’

‘You first,’ I said.

‘What do you want to know about me?’

‘Everything,’ I said.

‘Okay, but you realise I’m expecting this to be reciprocal?’

I nodded.

‘Okay. Do you fancy an ice cream?’ he said, as we passed a brightly painted booth. ‘How about we have a ninety-nine?’

I laughed. An ice-cream cone with a chocolate flake in it was hardly part of the lunch with a sophisticated Dom-about-town that I had envisaged. ‘Come on,’ Alex said, taking my hand and guiding me over to the window. ‘It’s been years since I’ve had one.’ He glanced into the kiosk. ‘Oh my God, look, they’ve got sprinkles!’ he said, turning round and grinning at me.

How I could I possibly resist?

‘So,’ he said, as we walked away with a huge ice cream each, complete with flakes and enough hundreds and thousands to sink a battleship. ‘BDSM. I was probably in my mid-twenties when I started to fantasise about tying women up and doing all sorts of weird and wonderful things to them while they were helpless. I’d had the thoughts before, but that was when I first realised that I wanted to turn it into a reality.’ Before he went into any more detail Alex glanced at me as if to gauge my reaction.

I’d been there. I knew how hard it was to voice those secret desires that don’t just excite you, but also make you feel ashamed of what you’re thinking and feeling and wanting, and make you anxious about the way your mind works. We all have different values and ideas about sexual behaviour, but I think most of us would concede that what constitutes normal when it comes to foreplay doesn’t usually involve tying up your sexual partner or putting them over your knee and spanking them.

‘Unsurprisingly, I kept the fantasies to myself,’ he said. ‘I’d just got engaged to my girlfriend, Lucy, and had booked us a weekend away to celebrate. There was a four-poster bed in our room and all I could think about was how much I’d like to tie her to it, spreadeagled, blindfolded. We met first of all when we were at university but hadn’t really got together until a couple of years later when some friends set us up. Lucy was fabulous, but sex really wasn’t her big thing. I mean, she liked it, and I’m sure if I’d asked her she would have played along, but at the time I felt it was not the sort of thing you did with your wife-to-be.’ Alex laughed. ‘I know times have changed, but neither of us were that adventurous back then. And I wanted her not just to put up with it but enjoy it too – for me that was what it was about. Mutual enjoyment, fun, some experimenting.

‘I used to travel a lot even then; I’d seen all sorts of magazines and been to a couple of clubs with guys from work, but at the time it really never occurred to me that there were nice women out there who felt the same way as I did and wanted to be on the receiving end.’

Alex smiled. ‘I like the idea of being able to touch and play unhindered, but –’ He paused. ‘What I wanted was for the woman I was with to enjoy it too, to be complicit in the game. That was never going to happen with Lucy, so it became this dark secret, this need that I thought about and worked fantasies around but never put into practice. It wasn’t like I wanted to torture anyone though,’ he said quickly, and then he grinned when he saw that I hadn’t flinched or run away screaming. ‘Okay, well, maybe torture them just a little bit, maybe nipple clamps and some other toys and a riding crop, things like that, but no real pain. For me, it’s not so much about inflicting pain as about having the power of being in control, of being able to take my time and set the agenda, of having someone surrender totally to me. Anyway, despite it figuring in a lot of my fantasies, I also came to the conclusion that I probably shouldn’t mention it to anyone in case I got arrested.’

I couldn’t help but laugh. Alex was right; suggest this and most women would run a mile, but I’m not most women, nor am I alone in what I feel or how I enjoy my sexual encounters. I genuinely love and enjoy what Alex was describing as long as what is done is consensual and shared with someone I like and respect and above all feel safe with and trust. Alex, meanwhile, was still speaking.

‘Four years ago I split up with Lucy and I met a woman on a vanilla dating site who was into bondage. I didn’t know that when we first met. In fact, I’m not even sure now how we got onto the subject – I think maybe we’d both had a glass or two of wine and both of us had been itching to try it and to find someone who wasn’t shocked. Anyway, we did talk about it and after that we played a little bit. She liked me to tie her to the bed, and that was about all, to be honest, but from the very first moment I realised just how much it excited me. It felt so right. We talked a lot and went looking at all sorts of websites together. The biggest relief and realisation was that I wasn’t alone in liking that kind of thing and that there were women out there, like her and you, who wanted to play too. It was something I knew I wanted to explore further.’

‘So what happened?’

‘I hadn’t long split up with my wife and at that point neither of us were looking for anything serious. We saw each other for a few months but gradually drifted apart. And then I dated on and off, went on some vanilla sites and very gently broached it with other women. Some were keen, some weren’t – and I slowly realised that actually it was something I wanted to be able to share and talk openly about with my partner, not pussyfoot around, worried that they’d call the police or run a mile.’

‘Which is why we’re here,’ I said.

He nodded.

‘So you were on the site for quite a while?’

‘Yes, although you were the first person I ever rang on the BDSM website. I emailed a couple of others and, as you were taken,’ he said with a grin, ‘I met a few of them, but they weren’t right and frankly I’d rather be on my own than in the wrong relationship.’

‘Me too. So have you been on your own since we last spoke?’

‘On and off. I’ve had a few dates, but nothing that was going anywhere.’

‘And is that what you’re looking for? Something that is going somewhere?’

Alex nodded. ‘In an ideal world, but I’m in no hurry, so –’ he smiled, ‘no pressure.’

Being with someone new and possibly even greener than me wasn’t something I had factored into my search for a Dom. I’d liked Max initially because it felt like he knew what he was doing. As if reading my mind, Alex said: ‘I’ve just never been with someone who I’ve known is submissive right from the start.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘You do understand that being a submissive doesn’t mean that I’m either stupid or a doormat, don’t you?’

‘I never assumed that for a moment,’ he said, holding his hands – and ice cream – up.

‘Good,’ I said. ‘Most of the subs I’ve met are really strong women. They’re just looking for a stronger man, someone who can understand them. Someone who can handle them.’

‘In both senses of the word?’

‘In an ideal world,’ I said, echoing his comment of a few moments earlier.

It was tricky talking hard-core sex with a man who had a sprinkle of hundreds and thousands on his nose. I reached out to wipe them off and he smiled as I touched him.

‘I’m really glad you decided to come today,’ he said. ‘I was disappointed when I rang before and you said you’d met someone. I felt like I’d been cheated out of something special.’

It was an odd thing to say; not creepy or stalker-like, just unsettling. And there was a moment then when we were so close that I thought Alex might kiss me – which was also odd because in BDSM, despite the intimate relationship between a Dom and their sub, often they don’t kiss. Max had told me that kissing was for lovers, not Masters and their sex slaves. But I realised as Alex and I moved apart and the moment passed that I had wanted him to kiss me.

‘It’s a real shame we don’t know each other better,’ Alex said, taking my arm as he helped me down over the harbour wall. ‘I’m going to a wedding in Whitby at the end of next week. Old family friends. I was going to make it a three-day trip. You could have come with me. I’ve booked into a really nice hotel.’

I looked at him and laughed. Outrageous! ‘You think I’m going to be swayed by the promise of a couple of nights in a half-decent hotel?’

‘You never know your luck,’ Alex said with a shrug.

‘You’re really not backwards in coming forwards, are you?’

Alex smiled, eyes bright with mischief. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever been accused of, no. How about you? How forward are you?’ he teased.

‘I’m not,’ I said primly, realising that I sounded more like a schoolmistress than a submissive.

‘Okay, not a problem,’ he said. ‘Maybe next time. The friend whose daughter is getting married has got six kids. I’m sure this won’t be the last time I get an invite to see one of them get married. And it’s a lovely part of the world. Have you ever been?’

I shook my head.

‘Amazing countryside, and Whitby is a real little gem.’

By now we had wandered way down past the boats and onto the beach where only the hardiest were walking in the cutting wind. I glanced across at Alex, wrapped up in a Barbour jacket, scarf tucked in, his head down, and smiled. He was lovely and, mad as this may sound, that set every alarm bell in my head ringing. What exactly was I thinking? Lovely? Hadn’t I said I’d take my time, not get involved, treat this as a trial run? Lovely? It was total madness.

What were the chances of walking out of one relationship straight into another one that was right? Next to zero, I’d have said. If I had drawn up a wish list of what I wanted in a man I suspect Alex would have ticked practically every box, and that was my dilemma. I didn’t believe what I was feeling and I didn’t trust myself or my instincts. Maybe it was because I hadn’t been out with anyone for so long.

The problem I was having was that the chemistry thing, which is usually so elusive and so very hard to find with someone, was there, so tangible that you’d have to have been dead not to feel it. I fancied Alex, and I knew damn well that he fancied me, and the fact was it terrified me.

What if this was a rebound thing or just lust? Was it that Max had created a need in me – like a drug habit – that longed to be fed? There was a good chance that this man could fulfil that need; was that what made me think I fancied him? I didn’t trust my instincts. Alex was lovely and there was a part of me – the mad, reckless part – that thought actually a few days in Whitby with him sounded like huge fun. But that wasn’t what I said. Instead I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jacket and tucked my head down to avoid the cutting wind and said nothing.

‘I’ll book you into a separate room,’ Alex said. ‘No strings. Or ropes, or anything even vaguely bondage. How does that sound?’

I laughed. ‘Boring.’

He threw back his head and laughed along with me. While I believed Alex when he said that he would book separate rooms, I think both of us knew that if I went to Whitby with him that wasn’t what was going to happen.