Chapter 9
“I’m still not quite sure why you want to do this, but I’m glad you do. You were nominated for a Hopper award, for fuck’s sake. Language, sorry.” On the other end of the phone, the head of Essex’s IT department sounded incredulous, a tone he’d maintained the entire time we’d been talking.
“It’s okay.” I’d never quite gotten used to the deference I got from people in my field.
I’d spent so much time as a kid feeling like I couldn’t do anything right—missing deadlines and struggling to keep up with what I was supposed to be doing because my brain got hijacked by an idea that wouldn’t let go.
The award nomination came for an algorithm I designed when I was supposed to be working on the coding for the final project for my doctorate.
It was the first time I’d felt a real sense of approval for my work.
The nomination was tangible validation from the outside world.
It changed everything for me, which didn’t stop me from being late for the award ceremony. “I’m helping out a friend.”
“You should have access to everything, but if there’s anything you need, just let me know, and I’ll send it.
Coffee, drinks, a pony, whatever. Thanks again, man.
” The guy finally paused for a breath, and I heard an amused noise on the other end of the line.
“Whoever they are, they must be some friend.”
“She is.” I disconnected and paused for a moment.
That didn’t feel right. Whatever Elena and I were to each other, friends didn’t seem like an accurate description.
In some ways, I felt like I knew her pretty well—intimately even, pun intended—but it wasn’t like we’d shared details of our lives.
I knew how she liked to be fucked, and I was learning about all the other things she liked me to do to her body.
But I didn’t know how many siblings she had or her favorite color.
What were her favorite TV shows, or would she rather read?
She paid attention to details in a way that seemed almost instinctive and was completely outside my skill set.
I saw how bits of code fit together; she saw how spaces did and what they needed to function and be beautiful.
I didn’t always, or often notice right away, but my place had an ease and grace it hadn’t before we met.
Still holding the phone, I walked from my office to the kitchen, forcing myself to look at the space.
I wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but many of the things around me, including the new hand towels in the powder room and sheets on my bed, were there because Elena sent them, and Anna put them in place.
Almost as if she was looking out for me.
I sat with that thought for a moment while I refilled my coffee cup from the insulated French press.
I’d burned up one too many espresso makers and come close to setting my place on fire more than once.
If I made a mistake with the French press, like forgetting to put water in, the consequences were limited to me not getting my coffee, which was a thousand times better than airing the burnt metal and rubber stench out of the house.
Maybe Elena taking care of me came from the same place as me needing to hold her after the spanking? Or doing a job that was comically below my skill set because I thought it would make her happy? I took out my phone and started to type.
ME
I have new sheets. Thanks for that.
ME
And for the towels.
I’d given up chastising myself for not noticing things right away like most people.
My brain worked in a way that let me solve other problems, and I was done feeling bad about that.
But I’d created a set of rules for myself to keep me from being an asshole.
When I noticed something, I said thank you right away before I forgot and ended up down another rabbit hole.
And I sent follow-up texts. For clients, it was a calendar notification to touch base.
For Elena it was an alarm I set for two hours after she walked out my door so I could send her a thanks for the sex text.
It sounded crazy, but if I didn’t find a system that work for me, I wouldn’t do it at all. Then people thought what they did didn’t matter to me. That they didn’t matter to me. Which was especially false where Elena was concerned.
My phone chimed with an incoming message.
ELENA
You’re welcome.
ME
Still planning to come on Wednesday to try them out?
ELENA
Absolutely. Does that work for you?
ME
It does. I’m going to fuck you in my bed, but I want you to do something else for me.
There was a pause in her response, and I wondered if I’d gotten the tone wrong.
ELENA
Name it.
I exhaled in relief and thought for a moment about how to phrase my request. I loved the way Elena trusted me when we were together, and I loved how open she was to playing. I wanted to find out what else she loved.
ME
Two things actually, tell me your favorite color.
She responded almost immediately, which was another difference between the two of us. I’m not sure I’d ever considered choosing a favorite color.
ELENA
Periwinkle but the cooler shades. Leaning away from the rosier versions.
I had no idea periwinkle was anything other than a mollusk, maybe.
Or maybe that was cockles. I did a quick search and found a small blue flower and a range of pale purplish-blue color swatches.
I closed my eyes and imagined it on the walls of a room.
It was a serene color, lovely and much more interesting than either blue or purple. It suited Elena.
And then, because I couldn’t let it go, I searched periwinkle mollusk and found images of an ordinary-looking edible snail with juicy-looking antennae and a spiral shell, about the size of a nickel.
It would take buckets of them to make a meal, assuming someone was inclined to do that.
Just because you could eat something, didn’t mean you should eat it.
ELENA
The second thing?
Her text pulled me back from the mollusk-lined rabbit hole and snail recipes and the difference between cockles and periwinkles, or winkles as they were also known.
ME
What are your favorite sex toys?
I took a swallow of my coffee while I waited for her response. Maybe I should have made some suggestions—like a sexy multiple-choice question.
ELENA
I’m not sure. I haven’t really experimented with anything other that a couple vibrators.
I watched the dots showing she was typing flash and then disappear before starting again, and I worried that I’d pushed too far. Although the spanking had been her idea, so probably not.
ELENA
What did you have in mind?
I thought about some of the toys I’d come across doing the BDSM research.
Anything that increased Elena’s pleasure worked for me.
Some of the clamps that restricted then increased sensation could be interesting.
Others, like the Wartenberg pinwheel, looked wicked.
They might say beginner BDSM, but they didn’t seem like it.
I wanted to know what interested Elena, and I didn’t want to prejudice her choices. It was important to me that she felt comfortable enough to explore and discover what she liked. Especially if she hadn’t tried them out herself before.
ME
Why don’t you do some research and pick 3 you want to try. Whatever interests you.
Doing the research for our last time together, had heightened the anticipation for me. Hopefully learning about sex toys would do the same for her. At a bare minimum, it would be more exciting than learning about periwinkle snails.
ELENA
Anything I want?
ME
Pretty much. Yes.
I leaned against the counter, anxious for her response. I didn’t think I needed to spell out my hard limits. I couldn’t imagine Elena bumping up against them.
ELENA
How would you feel about wearing a gimp suit?
Fuck. Maybe I was wrong about those limits. I paused for a moment, trying to figure out a way to say hell no but politely and without making her feel bad for her desires. Elena feeling bad or self-conscious or anything other than valued and desired went against my goal.
ELENA
I’m kidding. Unless you’re into that, in which case, I could maybe try to rally.
Thank fuck.
ME
No need to rally. I let my Latex Wearhouse subscription expire years ago.
ELENA
As long as you’re sure.
ME
Very. Choose the toys, Elena. The ones you want to try.