Jett #2
She twists her lips. “I met Booster at Pierce’s football game. They both begged me to hire him as an intern. He thinks it will be good for his résumé.”
I sigh. “He probably just wants to hang around an attractive woman.”
“What?” she laughs. “Booster’s gay, Dad. How do you not know that?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Fuck, I had no clue. My gaydar sucks. I need to work on that.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t know Champ was gay when I met him. I hit on him and couldn’t understand why he wasn’t into me. I even lost a bet to douchebag Daylen over it.”
I chuckle. “Even I knew that one. Champ’s a great guy. He’s been a nice addition to the team.”
She bites her lip. “He’s fucking hot.”
“Language,” I bark.
She rolls her eyes while fighting a smile. I think she likes it when I chastise her for her foul mouth.
I take a sip of my hot chocolate before asking, “Is there anything you need help with?”
Her face drops. “Like what? I’ve been on my own for a long time, Dad.”
“I don’t know. Something to lighten the load. A leaky toilet, balancing a checkbook, taxes, f—”
“You can do taxes?” she asks excitedly.
I nod. “I can. I’ve always preferred to do my own. Do you need help with that?”
I see her internal struggle with asking for help. She values her independence. Scrunching her face, she says, “It’s always been clear-cut, but last year put me in a different tax bracket because of a few endorsements.”
“That’s great, honey,” I commend.
She nods. “For sure. I’m really proud of it. It’s just made filing taxes harder for me. I’m so glad we learned about equilateral triangles during high school instead of taxes. It helps so much during equilateral triangle season.”
I smile. “Fair point.” I sit up. “Let me teach you. Why don’t you grab all your paperwork? We can go through how to calculate everything so after this year, you’ll be able to do it on your own.”
She hesitates briefly before nodding in agreement. “Okay. Thanks. That would be really helpful.”
We spend the next few hours doing her taxes. It’s nice to teach her something and have her take to it. Today feels like real progress in our relationship.
“How do you get rid of pubic hair?” Daylen asks loudly in the weight room.
I brace for impact.
“You spit it out,” he answers himself.
The guys all laugh. Is that funny? It’s not clever. I don’t get the allure of his childish jokes, and I don’t think I ever will.
I look at Beau, who also seems unamused. “Fudd, can you spot me? I’m increasing my weight on the press today.”
“Sure, Coach,” he responds without hesitation.
He stands over me while I push myself to the max. I know how much Fallon likes my body. I want to look good for her.
“How’s it going with your lady friend? Did the…grooming go over well?”
I smile. “It’s going extremely well. All good in that department.”
He nods. “Excellent. I’m happy for you.”
I push the bar as many times as I can until he has to interfere and help me place it on the rack.
Wiping my brow with a towel, I look at him. “Can I ask you a question, Fudd? I need to know it stays between us though.”
“Of course, Coach.”
I hesitate briefly but ultimately decide he’s trustworthy. “What does it mean if a woman likes to be restrained?”
He bites back a smile. “First and foremost, it’s a compliment to you.”
“A compliment?” I question.
“Yes. It means she trusts you.”
I can’t help but smile. “I suppose that’s a good thing.”
“It is. There’s a lot of science behind BDSM.
It can be therapeutic for women. They have so much on their plates all day.
Maybe they have a stressful job. Maybe they’re dealing with kids.
Maybe they’re caring for a sick parent. They’re caregivers by nature, always trying to please others.
Women are in control of every aspect of their lives, from their jobs to their home life.
BDSM allows them to unplug from those responsibilities.
They cede control to someone they trust. Being restrained is honestly one of the more benign aspects of BDSM. ”
I blow out a breath. “Wow, that’s a lot.”
“Yes, sir. Can I speak frankly?” he asks.
“I think we’re past pleasantries. Fire away.”
“The fact that this woman likes to be restrained tells me she’s submissive.”
I pinch my eyebrows together. “I wouldn’t call her submissive. She’s a very strong, independent woman. It’s one of the things I love about her.”
He shakes his head. “Not submissive in the traditional sense. Submissive in bed. She wants you to dominate her.”
I nod as I consider his words. “Yes, I think she likes that.”
“Yep. She wants a man who controls her—”
“No, no,” I interrupt. “I’m not controlling her.”
He twists his lips. “Again, not in the traditional sense. It’s not about controlling her life; it’s about controlling her body in those moments she chooses to cede control to you.
In those moments, she’s asking for you to dominate her mind and body.
It’s more of a fantasy. She wants an aggressive, masculine man to give her pleasure.
Let me give you an easier example. Some women like men who are rough in bed.
It doesn’t mean they want to be roughed up in real life, but in bed, it’s a fantasy.
They want a violent man who they know will protect them if needed.
Again, not violence in the traditional sense. ”
“How violent?” I ask as I process all this.
He shrugs. “Depends on the woman. Maybe something as simple as spanking or a bit of manhandling. Then some women like it more extreme. Maybe they want to be choked or…” his eyes take in my shocked ones, “more stuff, but I don’t think we need to get into that.”
“No, we don’t,” I mumble.
“You’re a big man. I imagine this woman might be attracted to that physical dominance. As long as it’s consensual, you should feel free to exert said dominance. She’ll tell you if it’s too much.”
I consider his words. “What about,” I lower my voice to whisper, “dirty talk?”
He smiles. “She likes it?”
“She gives it, and it’s filthy.”
He chuckles. “Women don’t usually give it. That’s kind of hot.”
I nod. “It is. I think she wants it from me, but I’m not very good at it. I never know what to say. How far is too far?”
He sucks his lips into his mouth like he’s trying his best not to smile. “I understand. A woman’s brain is her biggest sexual organ. You can do a lot to her libido without even touching her. We can turn off our brains and still get off. It’s not like that for women. They go hand in hand.”
“How do I know what to say? Is there a book of phrases I can learn?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Don’t overthink it. Just…say exactly what’s on your mind without any filter.
Aside from Humblecut, the rest of us normal people spend our lives choosing our words carefully.
If she likes dirty talk, she wants no filters.
Tell her exactly what you want to do to her without any forethought to word choice.
The more descriptive, the better. It sounds like she wants dirty, so the filthier, the better.
You don’t use words you would normally use in real-life conversations.
You use the words you wouldn’t use. When talking dirty, you would never say something like private area, crotch, or even vagina, like you would in real life.
You would say,” he whispers, “pussy or cunt. Pardon my French. That was for illustrative purposes.”
I blow out a breath as I absorb this information. “I think I’ve got it. Just tell her what I’m thinking without any filter. Be a little crude with my word choices.”
“Affirmative.” He swallows nervously. “Coach?”
“Yes, Fudd.”
“You mentioned the L word earlier.”
“When?” I ask.
“You said her independence is one of the things you love about her.”
I nod. “It is.”
He licks his lips. “Remember the day you got waxed when we mentioned love bombing?”
“Vaguely, but I have no idea what it means, and I’ve chosen to block that day out of my mind forever.”
He smiles. “I understand. Have you told her you love her?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, but I think I do.”
“Negative. Love bombing is telling someone you love them too early. Under no circumstances should you use the L word until at least six months in at a bare minimum. It’s a big red flag for both men and women. No love talk for six months. Got it?”
I sigh. There are so many rules. So much to think about. It’s no wonder why I haven’t dated until now.