3. If I Could Turn Back Time
3
If I Could Turn Back Time
Ben
I can feel a hammering behind my eyes. The only light in the room is the glimmer coming from my laptop and the small desk lamp. I should've switched on the main light before this video conference started. Two hours in, I regret my laziness. Just as much as I regret attending this thing in the first place. There isn't much in it for our company joining this conference for young entrepreneurs, but Nebula Tech Ventures is a top tech firm in Silicon Valley, and we’re trying to agree a partnership with them. So, when they invited us to their event it was difficult to say no.
Aside from the voice of the presenter coming from my laptop the office is eerily quiet. Even the cleaner has called it a day. I hit the button on my mobile and see that it's past ten. When Coop and I kicked off our company over a decade ago, we pulled insane hours. There were times when we'd sleep at the office because going home seemed pointless. Now, our main company oversees six others, and we've scaled our hours back a bit. Still, I often find myself working until late at night. Coop is finally in the relationship he had been dreaming of for so long and rarely stays beyond six these days. Honestly, I could probably leave sooner if I wanted, but I've got nothing and nobody waiting for me. An empty house, an empty office―what's the difference?
I love my work and I’m not a monk. I have the occasional date and there is Gina, my… acquaintance with benefits for a lack of a better word. But I’m forty-two and I’m starting to wonder if I’m not wasting my years with just work and casual dating. If there isn’t more to life.
Gina and I actually tried to date properly when we both lived in New York. She runs her own skin care company and spends half her time in the US and half her time back here. We bonded over our love for England and our sexual preferences, but quickly realised that we just don’t have the right feelings for each other. She’s beautiful and fun and a good submissive, but she doesn’t make my heart race and she doesn’t make me think of a future together. Not that this would even be an option at the moment. I haven’t seen her in a while because she has been dating a new dom and it seemed serious between them, and I respect that. Neither of us believes in cheating.
My eyes slide back to the clock. Fifteen more minutes and then this part of the workshop will be over and I can sign off. My stomach protests loudly because the last thing I had to eat was the sandwich Gladys brought me at noon. Gladys is our office angel and has been with Coop and me since we started the company. Last week was her sixtieth birthday and that made me realise that she’s not far from retiring. She deserves nothing more than to put her feet up, but the thought of running the company without her there does not fill me with joy.
My fingers fiddle with the phone again and, on autopilot, I open up my favourite dating app. I’ve dabbled in the BDSM scene since my late twenties, but in the last five years I found what really works for me. I don’t get my kink from pain or bondage; I get it from providing endless pleasure to my submissives. And the easiest way to meet like-minded people is this specialist app.
I have a few messages waiting for me but I disregard them. Some people don’t bother to read the person’s profile and that’s how I end up with messages from women looking for daddy doms, which I don't do, and dominatrixes who want to peg me, which I’m definitely not into.
As there are no interesting prospects in my inbox I start swiping. Left, left, right, left. I don’t worry too much about the photos. After all, I’m only showing the bottom half of my face myself, so who am I to judge?
Left, right, right… the next photo makes me pause. It's of a blonde woman lying on a bed. She’s in the background with a black cat dominating the front of the picture. With her fair locks and white nighty, she looks as innocent as they come even if her age reads forty-one.
Something looks familiar. Very familiar. I cast my eye over the details on her profile. Amelia. I sit up straight. Fucking hell. I zoom into the picture. And there they are. The blue-grey eyes I haven’t seen in twenty years even if I thought about them often. Amelia. My Amelia. My heart starts racing as memories flood my brain. Some amazing ones, some incredible sexy ones, and some heart-wrenching painful ones. And it’s those painful thoughts that should stop me from reaching out to her.
Huh, who am I kidding? No way can I miss this opportunity . There is a reason why I settled back into the village we grew up in after moving back from the States. Be it when heading to the shops or on my Sunday morning run, the hope of bumping into her is always there. I know she still lives in Little Hadlow but I haven’t dared to ask our mutual friends where her place is exactly. It’s not that I hope to win her back. I think the chances of that are nil. All I want is an opportunity to say sorry and explain myself. That’s it.
“Ben, are there any closing words you have for our young hopefuls?” I had completely forgotten that I’m on a video call.
“Sure,” I start summarising the pros and cons of being an entrepreneur as my eyes drift down to my phone, making sure I’m hitting the right keys as I type Hi Amelia in the app. Not particularly creative, but I just want to make sure I don’t lose her profile when I close my phone to focus on the rest of the video call. No, I can’t lose her. Surely it must be fate to find her on this app. What is she doing on a BDSM app? I mean, sex with Amelia was... amazing, but I don’t think she was particularly adventurous. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t intrigued, but what I really want to know is if she still hates me. Yes, that’s the only reason I’m reaching out. The only reason.
Now, how am I going to play this? I can’t really come out and say, “Surprise, it’s me!” She’ll block me immediately. No, I need to at least get her to meet up with me. I finally want a chance to explain myself. And to say sorry.
“Can we all give Ben a big round of virtual applause?” the host of the workshop, whose name I have completely forgotten, asks the attendees. Everyone who is showing on my screen raises their hands and gives me some weird finger wiggling gesture. I bite my lip to avoid showing how ridiculous I find it.
“Thank you for having me and good luck to you all.” I sign off and shoot a message to Omar, my driver. Having a company driver is one of the few luxuries Coop and I allow ourselves. I drive my own car on the weekends. But Coop and I both hate public transport, and finding anywhere to park when heading to meetings is usually a nightmare. So it made sense for us to have company drivers. We've got two actually; one handling the morning shift and the other tackling the evening slot. Roger, who picks me up in the morning, has a busier schedule during the day with staff coming and going from meetings. In contrast, Omar works from three until whenever I finish, leaving him with little to do after five once most staff have left for the day. But he's cool with it, always assuring me that he puts the downtime to good use by hitting the books. It never fails to amuse me when he talks about his studies; after all, he's in his late thirties, not much younger than me. Omar spent his twenties globetrotting and then another decade settling down and reintegrating to society. It was then that he decided he wanted to work on his career and get a degree. I admire him really. I'm not sure if I'd have the energy to start all over again.
With my phone in one hand and my jacket in the other I step into the lift and lean against the back wall. I loosen my tie and immediately feel more relaxed. Ties are not my cup of tea. If I could, I'd roll into the office in jeans, but I need to wear suits for meetings, and there aren’t any days when I don’t have meetings lined up.
The dreaded suit also causes me issues when dating sometimes. Thanks to certain films and books, everyone anticipates a dom in a suit. On more than one occasion a woman, new to the scene has turned into a proper brat when I’ve turned up for our date in jeans and a T-shirt, not believing that I’m a dom, just because I wasn’t wearing what they were expecting.
That thought brings me back to the app. Amelia . I’m itching to see if she’s replied. Wait until you’re in the car. I’m not sure if I’m edging myself here or if I’m just too scared to find out she’s ignored my message, or even worse, blocked me. I have knots in my stomach again. I can’t remember the last time I was so nervous.
"Hey, Omar," I call out as I settle into the backseat. I'm not too keen on being in the back; it gives off this vibe like I'm somehow lording it over Omar. But he's got his study materials and snacks spread out on the passenger seat, and asking him to shift it all after keeping him waiting until ten in the evening doesn't sit right with me either.
“Good evening, Sir.” I’ve given up asking him to call me Ben. Apparently it’s against company policy. Both drivers are not directly employed by us because it’s just easier to get them via a chauffeuring service as if one of them needs a day off they can send an alternative. But the downside is that they are not in our care, although Coop and I both insist that they get paid fairly.
“Can you take me straight home please?” I ask and swipe the screen of my phone nervously.
“No problem,” he replies and puts the car in gear. As we roll out into the dark of the city, I finally tap the app.
Amelia
Hi Ben
She’s replied! I take a deep breath. What now? I don’t want to use the usual lines I throw to any other woman. She’s not like them. She is Amelia.
My eyes fly over her profile.
Hm, think, Ben, think. Pick-up lines usually come easy to me. But then this situation is entirely different. I’m not trying to pick her up.
Me
So, what brings a cat lady to the world of BDSM? Curiosity killed the cat…
Ok, great. If she doesn't know the proverb this will sound like a threat.
Amelia
… But satisfaction brought it back.
Good girl . Of course she knows it.
Me
Haha. So, what brings you here as a newbie?
Amelia
"Friends" signed me up for it. I was very cross.
Me
And yet you didn't delete the account.
She has always been an inquisitive soul, but the risk that she may end up with the wrong guy on here doesn't sit well with me. Especially as she’s new to the community. There’s a fire in my stomach again but it's not pleasant this time.
My gaze drifts to the world outside the car. Lights flash past as we make our way out of the city. I don't think I have ever had a bigger regret than when I messed things up with Amelia.
A ping from my phone alerts me to a new message.
Amelia
Tbh my dating life hasn't been brilliant so I thought maybe this is what’s been missing.
So many memories flood my brain. That was me, the not brilliant dating life. A disaster of a dating life more like. I should tell her who I am but I can’t. Not yet.