Читать книгу Bonds of Love - Sarah K - Страница 6

‘For God’s sake,’ said Gabbie, pouring me another glass of wine. ‘You’re hardly a blushing virgin. Go. It’ll do you good.’

‘You make it sound like some sort of universal cure-all.’

‘Nothing wrong with a little therapeutic sex, Sarah. Come on, you said yourself that he is cute, and let’s face it, you could do with a diversion. You’ve been moping about for months since you split up with Max. Time to start over, honey. Time to be getting on with life.’

‘I have been getting on with life,’ I protested.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘As far as I can see you’ve been getting on with avoiding life,’ she said.

Gabbie is one of my best and oldest friends. Along with Joan and Helen, we make up a quartet of friends who go back the best part of twenty-five years, and we are still going strong. The four of us first met up at antenatal classes in a draughty scout hut on the outskirts of Cambridge, but we’ve all come an awfully long way since then. When our children were small we used to meet up once a month at each other’s houses. Now that we’ve all moved away and moved on and our children have grown up, we still try to get together regularly for supper, it just doesn’t happen as often as any of us would like.

Tonight, however, was an extraordinary mid-week general meeting with just Gabbie and me present, because I thought Joan would disapprove of me going away with Alex on principle and Helen had started seeing a man called Geoff and was so excited and loved up that – pleased as I was – I knew that he would be the main topic of conversation. Even if we did talk about Alex and the pros and cons of going away with a complete stranger for a dirty weekend, she wouldn’t really be listening and, while I didn’t want to steal her thunder, I needed some support and advice. Helen deserved a good man. We all did.

‘I don’t know why you’re making such a big thing of this. What harm can it do?’ Gabbie was saying. We had ordered a takeaway. She was waving an onion bhaji around for added emphasis. ‘You’re a big girl now, Sarah. You don’t need anyone’s approval, least of all mine. Look at the mess I make of relationships. Go to Whitby, have a good time, have a weekend in a nice hotel with someone you fancy and have some good meaningless sex. Or not. Let him book you a separate room and have a bit of a cuddle. Your choice. You’re old enough to make up your own mind now, and you can have a relationship any shape you want it to be these days. I mean, he might be the one.’

I laughed. ‘Yes, and he could also be an axe murderer.’

‘True. But then again so could anyone else you go out with and –’

‘He offered to drive,’ I said.

‘And what? Your mother was very strict about you getting into cars with strangers?’

‘And rightly so.’

‘Okay, so you offer to drive up there then.’

‘I don’t want to drive to Whitby. It’s bloody miles away.’

‘Go by train and meet him there.’

‘It’ll take all day.’

‘Okay, well, don’t go at all then,’ said Gabbie, throwing up her hands in frustration.

‘But I want to go,’ I said, realising that with every passing minute I was sounding more and more like a petulant teenager than a fortysomething adult with a job, a mortgage and grown-up kids.

‘You probably know a lot more about Alex than you would about some guy you’d met in a bar, and I think you’d know if he was weird.’

‘You’d like to think so, wouldn’t you? But I’m not sure I trust my instincts.’

‘Oh well, that’s it then. Ring him up and tell him you’re not going. Or do you want me to do it?’ Gabbie paused and waited for me to reply, and when I didn’t she said, ‘What you really want is for me to give you my approval and to encourage you to go, don’t you?’

She was right, of course. I just needed someone else to tell me it was okay and I wasn’t mad to want to go away with him.

To help convince me that he wasn’t weird or a mad man, Alex had sent me a map of where we would be staying, a link to the hotel website, a copy of the wedding invitation and all sorts of numbers and bits and bobs so that I could check him and his invitation out. If he was an axe murderer he had gone to an awful lot of trouble to make himself look credible.

When we’d parted in the car park after our day out at the seaside, he had kissed me very briefly and told me to let him know if I wanted to go with him to the wedding. He said it would be great to spend some more time together, and part of me agreed wholeheartedly. The afternoon had just flown by and I hadn’t had such a nice time in ages. He had such a light touch on life, and had made me laugh more in one afternoon than I had in weeks. He had made me smile and he had listened, and made me realise that there was life after Max, and that without meaning to I had been wallowing in a whole world of ‘poor me’, even if I hadn’t said anything out loud.

‘So,’ Alex had said as we got to my car. ‘Time to go then.’

I nodded as he bobbed in to kiss me on the cheek. ‘I’ve had a great time,’ he said.

‘Me too,’ I said. I didn’t want him to go and it seemed the feeling was mutual because he ran through the plan for Whitby one more time.

Alex planned to drive up on Thursday morning, then go to the wedding on Friday and come back on Saturday. Or Sunday, he offered, still smiling. As he spoke, I wondered if he might kiss me for real, rather than the maiden-aunt-style peck he’d just given me. At which point he leant in closer, and I felt my heart do that fluttery thing that hearts do – and I almost pulled away, coming over all prudish, as I felt a surge of what felt remarkably like pure old-fashioned lust. And then he kissed me properly and I was convinced of it. It was lust, pure and simple, and it was heady stuff. I’d been through a lean time. His kiss was like nectar.

I can’t remember the last time that kissing someone genuinely made me go weak at the knees, but Alex’s kiss came damned close. Good kissing is an art – this was close to perfect; he gently held me by the elbows, bringing me into range, and then he brushed my lips with his. The kiss was just intimate enough; strong but not too pushy, gentle pressure and slightly open mouth but no tongues, with the promise of more to come. When he pulled away, Alex’s eyes were bright with a flicker of desire and a lot of amusement. He grinned. ‘I’d really like to do a lot more of that. Have a safe trip home.’

I felt myself blushing and then he was gone.

By the time I got back to my place Alex had already texted me: ‘Great to spend time with you today. I’ve emailed you the details of the wedding, but seriously, no pressure. I’d really love to see you again, whether you come to the wedding or not. Just hoping you feel the same. A x’

Across my kitchen table, between plates and takeaway cartons, Gabbie turned my laptop round to face her. ‘We could always ring the venue and make sure the wedding is for real.’

I stared at her. ‘You think he would fake a wedding?’

‘I don’t know, do I? I wasn’t the one who met him.’

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t. He was really nice, good company, tall, blond, broad shoulders, and I really fancied him,’ I said, scooping up the last of the saag with a piece of naan bread.

‘So what’s your problem?’ said Gabbie.

‘What if I’m wrong?’

Gabbie stared at me. ‘About what? Him being nice or faking a wedding?’

‘Fancying him.’

‘Are you planning to marry him?’

I stared at her. ‘No, of course not. I’ve only just met him.’

‘Right, well, in that case lighten up for God’s sake. Just go and see how you get on. You’re over-thinking this, Sarah.’ Gabbie pulled out her mobile from her handbag and reading from the screen tapped in a number.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ I asked.

‘Ringing the hotel so we can check up on Mr Tall-Blond-with-Broad-Shoulders,’ Gabbie said. Then, before I could protest, she continued in a warm, super-cheery voice: ‘Oh, hello there, I’m just ringing to check up on a booking we made for later this week. Mr Alex Fallon?’ She paused for a moment or two, listening to whoever was at the other end, and then continued, ‘That’s right. Coming up for a wedding. Yes, that’s it, booked in on – yes – that’s great. I just wanted to make sure he’s got it all sorted. You know what men are like. Thursday for two nights? That’s great, thank you so much, that’s lovely,’ she gushed, and with that Gabbie hung up.

‘Are they allowed to do that?’ I asked in amazement.

‘You just have to get the voice right, and there you go – so far his story adds up. Double room, single occupancy for two nights is what the lady said, but then again I suppose anyone can book a hotel, although booking it a fortnight ago shows some forward planning if he is making it all up.’ I knew Gabbie was teasing me, but it wasn’t helping. She turned her attention back to the screen and started to tap another number into the phone.

‘What the hell are you doing now?’

‘I was going to call the RSVP number,’ Gabbie said mischievously. ‘Get it straight from the horse’s mouth.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ I said, trying to snatch the phone out of her hand.

‘I’m only joking, but maybe we ought to ring the wedding venue and check that out too?’

One thing I should say is that Gabbie doesn’t know that I’m into BDSM – as far as she is concerned Max was just another man, and Alex too. I’m not sure what she would think of the BDSM thing and, much as I love her, I’ve never told her. I’m worried that she won’t understand.

Gabbie, meanwhile, was back on the phone. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘I’m just ringing to make sure I’ve got the right place. We’re coming up for a wedding this Friday and I wanted to make sure that we end up at the right one.’ She laughed; someone at the other end of the line laughed too. ‘The name of the wedding party? Certainly.’ Gabbie read the names of the bride and groom off the screen and nodded in response to whoever she was speaking to. ‘That’s lovely – no, we’re really looking forward to it. Oh right, that’s great. I’ll take a look on your website. Fine. See you soon. And thank you – that’s really helpful.’

Gabbie glanced across at me. ‘So far, so good. She said all I needed to do was put the postcode into my sat nav. Apparently they’re very easy to find and they’re really looking forward to seeing me. So, little Miss Prim-and-Proper, have you made up your mind?’

I glanced at my plate. ‘What the hell do you wear to the wedding of people you don’t know?’

Gabbie handed me her phone. ‘Why don’t you ring Alex and find out?’ she said, spooning the last of the rogan josh onto her plate.

Which was why the following Thursday I found myself sitting in the passenger seat of Alex’s TT, heading up the coast road towards Whitby with a hatbox balanced on my knees and a genuine sense of excitement and anticipation. We’d stopped for lunch in York and then taken a detour off the main route so we could see the sea. It was a good choice.

It was the most perfect early-spring day and you could see for miles. The other good news was that on a second viewing Alex was just as fanciable and just as good company as he had been the first time around, and we were getting on like a house on fire. We’d talked about family and friends and holidays and places we had been and places we’d still like to go. The drive was pretty much uneventful except for Alex announcing one slight change of plan.

Since we had spoken on the phone he had swapped hotels and hotel rooms with one of the bride’s family because the room Alex had been booked into was on the ground floor, and the family member had small children and was worried that the wedding-venue hotel, full of celebrating newlyweds and their guests, would be too noisy. So we now had a suite at the wedding venue with two adjoining rooms. Alex insisted that I let Gabbie know where I was, just in case she (or I) was worried and felt the need to check up on me. As I got into the car he had handed me a sheet of paper with the new number and details on it and insisted that I text her.

We had talked for hours about our lives and our families, but as we drove down the hill towards the coast and our destination, Alex, whose eyes were firmly fixed on the road, said, ‘We haven’t talked much about the main reason we’re both here.’

I glanced across at him.

‘Don’t worry. I’m just glad that you said you’d come. I understand if you don’t want to play for whatever reason, or if you want to wait until we know each other better. If you don’t want to play, then we’ll just have a great weekend away and call it quits. There is no pressure whatsoever, but if you do want to play you’ll have to ask me.’

‘Ask you?’

Alex nodded. ‘If you want to play.’

I felt a little ripple of excitement and smiled. It seemed to me Doms were big on making you ask for what you wanted; maybe they got a kick out of hearing a woman beg. ‘What do you want me to say?’

He grinned. ‘I don’t mind. Anything you want.’

I hesitated. Wasn’t this what I wanted? Wasn’t this why I was here? With Max, before he and I had got to this stage we had exchanged lots of emails about what he expected from his submissive, and before there had been any physical contact we’d both signed a contract, which outlined the rules of engagement and included safe words, what he and I would commit to and the boundaries we had both agreed on.

‘What about safe words and limits?’ I asked Alex.

‘We can sort that out as we go. I want us both to be able to explore this – although if you want a contract then I’m sure we can draw one up, but before we get to that point I need you to ask me.’

I stared at him and unexpectedly felt my eyes filling up with tears. I wasn’t sure that I was ready for this. I wanted to play, but maybe it was too early for me to start over. I barely knew Alex and I wondered if he really knew what being a Dom meant.

Alex glanced across at me. ‘Are you okay?’ he said, and when he realised that maybe I wasn’t, he pulled the car over to the side of the road. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

I laughed and wiped away the tears. ‘You haven’t, I’m so sorry. I’m absolutely fine. I don’t know where that came from. It’s just me being stupid. I got myself emotionally mashed first time round when I did this. And yes, I do want to play, but we might need to take it slowly.’

He handed me a tissue. ‘That’s okay. But you still have to ask me.’

I nodded.

‘And while we’re together and while we play you will call me Sir from now on, although if, after this weekend, or even during this weekend, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake or it’s too much then that’s okay – no hard feelings, we can just cool it down or walk away. Okay?’

I nodded. I understood. It was what I wanted and needed too. ‘Yes, Sir,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Now, ask me,’ he said.

Ds (Dom-sub) relationships are no less passionate or emotionally intense than any other kind of relationship between two people, but there is usually, in my experience, far more negotiation, more discussion, before there is any sexual contact, which to those outside listening in can make it sound more like a transaction than attraction.

Most of the Ds couples and singles I’ve talked to over the years don’t, as a rule, however fast they move from fancying to getting physical, just fall into bed with each other after a first drunken night out and have crazy drunken Ds sex. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, just not with the people I’ve talked to. For one thing, it’s way too dangerous to play hard when you’re drunk.

By the time a Dom and sub get to the point where they want to play with each other – play being the term used to describe a Ds scenario – they’ve talked about what they want, what they like and what they don’t like, which, let’s face it, isn’t the way most vanilla relationships go. From the outside it may sound colder, but in fact it’s fun; it builds trust, confidence and connections. Even if you are wildly attracted, in my experience the encounters – at least at the outset – are much more structured until you know your way around each other and what you like and don’t like.

Lust, desire, love, passion: they are all there, but the way Ds couples negotiate their way through the beginning of their relationships is just a little different from what most people are used to.

So, I was agreeing that, for this weekend, maybe longer, Alex would be my dominant man, a Dom, my Dom – the man who, when we were playing, could tell me what to do. By my acknowledging him in that role I was giving him permission to use and explore my body as he saw fit within the boundaries we had agreed. As his sub I would choose to submit to him. In many ways I would give myself to him. It is heady and powerful stuff.

One thing I had learned early on from being with Max is that you can’t give what you don’t have. To be able to submit to someone you have to know who you are and be strong enough to let go.

So, sitting in the TT on the side of the coast road a long, long way from home, I said: ‘Please, Sir. Can we play?’

Alex smiled at me and nodded. ‘Yes, we can. I’ve been thinking about this since we met last weekend.’ The amusement was back in his eyes. ‘I’ve got such plans for you.’