Chapter 8
“Being married suits you.”
It sounded weird hearing the words come out of Charlotte’s mouth, but she was right.
Alex looked even more gorgeous than usual.
Sunkissed from her honeymoon in Santorini, Greece with what seemed like a permanent smile on her face.
I liked Erik. Aside from being good to and for my friend—the most important thing—he had his life together.
Prestigious job, beautiful house, and now the perfect wife.
He looked like exactly what he was—the cream of NOLA society.
He also happened to be an exceptionally decent person.
He invested his time, money, and energy into causes that reflected his values, most notably the local domestic violence organization.
“Maybe you should try it.” Alex winked at Charlotte, clearly baiting her. Of all of us she’d been the one least likely to wed. At least until she met Ford. With the way she spoke about the sexy restaurant mogul, I wouldn’t be surprised if she followed Alex to the altar before the end of the year.
“Maybe I will.”
Alex swiveled in her chair to look out the window, intent on something outside.
“What’s going on?” asked Meredith, following Alex’s line of sight.
“Charlotte considered the possibility of marriage. I’m looking for the flying pigs.”
“Very funny.” Charlotte leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her wine before reaching for the almost empty basket of bread.
I signaled the waiter. The bread at Tujague’s was legendary. Light as air with a crispy crust and a delicious, warm, yeasty taste. There was never enough of it.
“Are you seriously considering something permanent with Ford?” Kindra’s tone was gentle, but she used her therapist’s laser focus on Charlotte, waiting for the answer we all wanted now.
“Maybe.” Her forehead creased, and she wore an expression I wasn’t used to seeing on my unfailingly confident friend’s face. “No. I mean yes. Yes, I want to marry Ford.”
Meredith let out a sound halfway between a chirp and a restrained squeal. You could always count on her to get behind any plan that included romance and happily ever after.
“He hasn’t asked you, has he? Hinted at it?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about another of my friends heading toward ’til death do us part.
“No, but I’m not sure he ever will. I made such a big deal about the evils of becoming husband and wife, if I want it, I think I’m going to have to be the one to do the asking.” Charlotte finished her wine and glanced around for the server.
“I never thought I’d see the day,” said Alex, beaming at our friend. “Does this mean we get to be bridesmaids? Are you doing the big cupcake dress?”
“Slow down. I haven’t asked him yet. He might say no.”
“He won’t.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about Charlotte being the one to do the asking.
It messed with my picture of things. But I was sure if she worked up the nerve to do it, Ford would say yes.
He loved her, and he’d always been the one looking for more than a casual relationship.
His desire for more was what almost scared her off in the first place.
“You sound sure, honey.” Kindra reached across the white tablecloth to squeeze Charlotte’s hand. “Have you thought about how you’d like to ask him? What you want to say?”
“No, and I don’t want to think about it now. This is supposed to be Alex’s honeymoon debrief, not my road to the slaughter.”
“Such a romantic.” Meredith shook her head in mock disapproval.
“We’re finished with me,” Alex said. “Most of the past year has been about me and Erik and what everyone thought about that. I’d love for someone else to take the spotlight for a change. You and Ford are good together—great, if he can get you to consider the idea of marriage.”
“Why don’t you ask him when you’re in Costa Rica?” asked Meredith, her eyes already taking on that dreamy look she got when we talked about love. “The setting is certainly romantic enough.”
“That’s perfect. I ask him, he says no, and then we’re trapped on an island together with no escape.”
“He won’t say no.” I snagged the fresh basket of bread the server set at the center of the table. I’d do extra time on the treadmill to make up for the indulgence.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself.” Charlotte gave me her attorney stare—the one she used in court to make sure cheating spouses got everything they deserved.
It didn’t work on me, but that was just because I knew she loved me. I tipped my head in acknowledgment and munched my bread, waiting for her move on.
“What’s going on with your love life?” she asked, turning in a different direction than the one I’d hoped.
Despite all the deliciously filthy things Jake and I were doing together, I didn’t have a love life at the moment.
Not beyond a few disappointing dates I had no intention of reliving.
It wasn’t that I objected to sharing with my friends.
They were closer to me than family. There just wasn’t anything to share—at least not anything romantic. I thought for a moment.
“How do we feel about spanking?” I’d wanted to talk to Alex about my reaction to Jake. Now was probably as good a time as any.
“I think the more important question,” said Kindra, eyeing me in a surprisingly mischievous way, “is how do you feel about spanking?”
“Well, it turns out, in my limited experience, I quite enjoy it.” There was a lot wrong with that statement.
I was pretty sure “enjoy” wasn’t the word I meant, both because of the way the spanking felt and the strength of my reaction.
It didn’t matter. My friends had started talking over each other, lobbying for details.
“Who, how, exactly what, and when? In detail. Now,” said Charlotte, the tone of her voice cutting through the other women’s questions.
“Remember my friends-with-benefits guy?”
“The itch scratcher.” Alex nodded.
I regretted ever calling Jake that. It didn’t fit. I didn’t know what we were, but it was more than just scratching an itch. Or maybe it wasn’t.
“We negotiate for sex.”
“Like with money?” It was the most scandalized I think I’d ever heard Meredith.
“No. More with fantasies. If I want to try something, I tell him; we work out the details, by text, and then I show up and we do it. If he wants to do something, he can ask me. If it’s good, we can do it again.
” I ignored for a moment that Jake had never asked me for a fantasy and that everything we’d done together—chocolate syrup aside—had been good. Very good.
“How often do you see each other?” Meredith swiped the basket of bread and tore off a generous hunk. Generally immune to the yeasty goodness—probably because she was surrounded by it at work—even she couldn’t resist the bread at Tujague’s.
“As often as we need to. We used to get together every couple of weeks, but lately it’s turned into more of a weekly thing.” I thought back, trying to figure out when things had changed.
“So why haven’t we met this guy?” Charlotte pinned me with her prosecutor look, and I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue or do something equally childish.
“Because it’s not that kind of thing. It’s not a relationship. It’s just sex.”
“Once a week for someone as busy as you isn’t an insignificant time commitment. Are you sure neither of you wants more?” asked Kindra.
“Absolutely sure. He’s not my type. He’s messy, or he would be if his housekeeper didn’t keep things in order for him.
I’ve almost never seen him in anything other than board shorts and bare feet.
” I wondered for a moment what he’d look like in a good suit.
The pants and dress shirt had been a delicious change, but after what he’d said, I wasn’t sure he owned one.
I still had a hard time thinking of him that way.
“He’s fairly reclusive. He spends most of his time in front of computer monitors and orders out for whatever he needs. ”
“Including sex,” said Alex, nodding her approval.
“It sounds like he’s put systems in place that work for him. That’s its own kind of order,” said Kindra.
It took me a moment to wrap my head around it, but Kindra was right.
Jake’s house was never dirty, and he had more than enough money to pay his bills and provide for himself and Anna.
He might not look like the good-on-paper guys I usually dated, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t successful in his own right.
I didn’t know what made Jake the way he was, but the fact he’d figured out how to make it work for him was a pretty impressive thing.
“It is.” Then I pictured him in his slouchy shorts and threadbare T-shirts with the cabinet doors hanging open and gave myself a reality check. “But it’s still not a relationship. Can we get back to the spanking?”
“Yes, please,” said Alex. “Give us the details. Hand? Paddle? Were you bent over his lap? Tell us everything.”
Bent over Jake’s lap with his hand on my bare ass and his hard cock pressed against my belly was something I intended to explore, but for now, I told my friends everything, starting with the slutty secretary texts and working my way to Jake holding me in his arms after.
I left off the dinner invite and how much I’d wanted to accept it.
I wasn’t comfortable sharing that—especially in light of the relationship talk—until I knew how I felt about it.
“It sounds like he knew what he was doing, even down to the aftercare,” said Alex, looking pleased. “So how did it make you feel?”
“Turned all the way on. It was some of the best sex we’ve ever had, and that’s a pretty high bar.
What does that mean? I won’t deny I want it—it was my idea—I’m just not sure I’m comfortable with what it says about me.
I was never spanked as a child. If I have daddy issues—fuck it, I know I have daddy issues—they don’t run to the corporal punishment kind.
So why am I so eager to turn control of my body over to a man?
” That was the question that had been bothering me, and I didn’t like any of the answers I’d come up with from Google or on my own.
I’d watched my mother twist her life—our lives—around for a man’s approval.
That wasn’t something I’d ever let myself do.
Was surrendering control really that different?
“It doesn’t have to say anything. It can simply be something you enjoy.” It wasn’t like Kindra to pick the unexamined option, but here we were.
I gave her a look, and she tipped her head in an infuriatingly knowing manner.
“Do you like being spanked?” I’d love not to be the only one of us with this particular proclivity.
“Sometimes.” Kindra left the single word just hang there without elaborating.
“Okay, but why?” I sounded whiny, another thing I hated.
“The physiology part is probably the easiest to explain. We can start there,” said Alex, jumping in. “Your butt has lots of nerves in an area that’s protected by muscle and fat. Light impact—even harder impact—is unlikely to damage anything other than your skin.”
The way she said damage made me feel dirty and not in a good way, but I kept my mouth shut. Alex had grilled us for years about not “yucking someone’s yum.” Just because it was my yum this time didn’t give me a pass.
“It’s close to your genitals, which amps up the sensitivity.
Spanking wakes up the nerves and sends blood to that part of your body.
If your head is in the frame of mind to experience it as sexual, your arousal increases.
That doesn’t even deal with the endorphin release part.
And it’s a pretty accessible kink. No handcuffs or special equipment necessary. ”
She leaned back in her chair so the server could set the shrimp remoulade on fried green tomatoes in front of her.
I wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but I didn’t think I’d ever be as comfortable talking about sex as Alex.
She hadn’t really told me anything I hadn’t already read, but hearing her describe it in such a matter-of-fact manner felt reassuring.
It gave me permission to like what I liked without worrying about some tie to childhood and humiliation I absolutely wasn’t interested in.
I took a bite of my blackened redfish, feeling more settled about things.
And wanting to message Jake to see if he were up for another round.
Maybe not slutty secretary but something.
“Are you sure it isn’t a relationship?” asked Meredith. “Your smile doesn’t look like it’s just sex.”
“When was the last time you had earth-shattering sex?” I schooled my face so I wasn’t grinning like an over-eager teenager. My thing with Jake wasn’t a relationship, but denying it to Meredith was likely to make her dig in.
“That’s mean. I can’t remember the last time I had adequate sex.” Meredith loaded her fork with shrimp and grits.
“We need to do something about that so you can smile too.” I thought for a minute.
Meredith’s hours at the bakery usually ruled out late nights, but desperate times called for different measures.
Not desperate. We weren’t quite there yet.
“There’s a benefit for mental health services at the end of the month.
Let’s find you a date and see if we can do better than adequate. ”
I’d already planned to attend to network for my business, but I had high hopes for my date with Jason Adams. Or if not high, then at least hopes.
I’d met Jason through Ford. He was a few years older than me and a few inches taller.
A handsome, successful attorney, and very good on paper.
It was too soon to know if he was good anywhere else, but optimism was still as easy as cynicism.
I fought the momentary whiplash of shifting from thinking about spanking and Jake to good on paper Jason.
But even if ordinary dating was the kind of thing we did together, I couldn’t imagine Jake getting dressed up to go to a black tie event.
“I’m on the board of the Hope and Help benefit. I’ve got to miss the gala this year for an academic thing, but you should go. It’s always a good time,” said Kindra.
“I forgot about that. Honeymoon brain.” Alex waved her hand around her head. “Erik’s firm gets a couple of tables. You can come with us. We’ll find you a decent date.” She motioned to me, and I nodded.
“What the hell.” A grin teased Meredith’s lips. “Lack of sleep won’t kill me this one time, at least not as fast as the lack of sex will.”