Chapter 32
Isabelle
I crawl into bed once I’m home, feeling numb and empty. Seeing James’ devastation as I left almost broke me. I couldn’t stay. I needed to get out of there. After telling James everything, I needed space. I needed everything to be quiet again.
My head feels noisy with everything we talked about, yet simultaneously empty and devoid of anything I can actually think about. No single thought can be pinned down and thought through.
I’m exhausted. I’ve sobbed for the first time in years, and there’s nothing left inside of me to pour out. My phone buzzes against the hardwood of the bedside table. James has messaged me multiple times, begging to talk, but I have nothing more to give tonight.
I reach over and turn my phone off, huddling into my blankets, feeling like my eighteen-year-old self once more, broken and numb.
Yes, Miss
I wake to the sun streaming through my curtains and an incessant ringing sound coming from my downstairs phone.
I roll over and bury my head in my pillows.
The ringing stops, and I fall back to sleep for what feels like a few minutes, until a pounding at the door wakes me.
My puffy eyes struggle to open again against the morning light.
Kicking my blankets back, I sigh, wishing everyone would just leave me the fuck alone.
I drag my sorry ass out of bed to the window, hoping it isn’t James. My joints feel stiff, and I don’t have the energy in me to talk this morning. I open the curtains and look down to see my nosy old neighbour banging at my door.
Bloody Edith.
Cigarette in hand, her oversized glasses perched on her nose, and a face that looks like a bulldog chewing a wasp.
"Answer your phone, young lady! The constant ringing is disturbing my stories!
" she yells, banging on the door once more.
This woman is going too far. She irritates the hell out of me and treats me like a child.
"Did you hear me?" she yells again. Neighbours from a couple of doors down come out to see what the commotion is.
Oh, great, a bloody audience.
I shove the window open and glare down. "What the fuck, Edith?" I yell. It’s still early-ish for me on the weekend. It’s nine am, and the road is quiet.
Alexandra Ravensbrook
"I beg your pardon?" she yells back, a look of disdain marring her wrinkled features. "How dare you talk to one of your elders like that, young lady! Your phone has been ringing non-stop, and I can't hear my stories! Your generation has no respect for neighbours and their peace and quiet!"
"Well, I’m not the one banging on doors and disturbing the street!
So, if you don’t mind, kindly fuck off and mind your own fucking business, you nosy bitch!
" I yell and slam the window, Edith’s face a picture of shock as one of the neighbours laughs loudly and goes back inside, realising the show is over.
Unable to sleep again and feeling antsy and restless, I get up to make coffee, but there’s knocking at the door again. I storm to the porch, ready to rip Edith’s head off, and tear the door open.
"I swear to fucking God, Edith..." My voice trails off as Victoria stands there, face like thunder. She pushes past me into my hallway, clearly furious.
“Why the fucking hell haven’t you been answering your phone? I tried calling your mobile, and it was off. Then your house phone wasn’t being answered. How do I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, hmm? Answer me that, young lady!"
My blood pressure shoots off the scale, and I am livid.
Yes, Miss
"Oh, you did not just call me 'young lady'!" I snap, waving my hand in front of me, fed up with everyone treating me like a five-year-old.
Victoria bursts out laughing and hugs me.
"God, I heard your, shall we say, ‘frank discussion’ with your neighbour as my taxi pulled up. I couldn’t resist!
I’m glad to see you’re okay. Now what the hell?
Why aren’t you answering your phone, and why are your eyes so puffy, like you’ve had a serious bukkake session with some untested guys? "
“Oh, Vic? Really? That’s gross…” I groan, walking back to my kitchen and grabbing some cups down from the cupboard shelf. Vic takes a seat at the table and leans back in her chair.
“Spill.” She crosses her arms and has a look that dares you to cross her.
“I told James everything, got it all out,” I start, taking a deep breath for the next part.
“He’s a switch. He’s going to want to dominate me at times, and I just don’t think I can do that again.
I can’t put myself back in that situation.
He says he never would and is happy to always sub, but I can’t deprive him of it.
He needs someone who can be everything he needs,” I ramble, desperate to air my fears to someone who understands.
Victoria takes a mouthful of coffee and sits quiet for a moment. The birds tweeting outside are our only
Alexandra Ravensbrook
background noise. She takes a slow breath in and puts her cup down, fixing me with a stare.
“Okay, I can understand your thoughts on this. So what happened after that? You ran? Bolted for the hills? Freaked out and left him there not knowing what the hell was going on?” Her voice is a little sterner now, and I can feel her annoyance start to rise.
“Have I taught you nothing, Isabelle? Is that any way whatsoever to treat a sub?” She sits forward in her seat; her index finger pointed right at me.
“That poor man is left sitting there, wondering what the fuck he did wrong. You know more than anything, Isabelle, that communication, trust, and honesty are the very foundation of our lifestyle. And you ran without talking to him. And this better not have been after a scene!”
Oh shit. She’s using my full name, and she’s angry.
She’s been my mentor for years, and I’ve never seen her like this.
I can feel myself wobbling again as tears build up, my throat tightening with emotion.
She’s right. I did run, and I did leave James right after an intense scene.
I was such a bitch. How could I do that to him?
Reaching for my phone, I turn it on, feeling a sudden need to see his messages, to reassure him I’m okay. I didn’t think last night; I just needed to get out. Vic’s right. I’m a horrible Domme.
Yes, Miss
Message after message comes through, and Vic strides over and snatches the phone from me.
“Oh no you don’t!” her voice softens with understanding.
“You don’t talk to him until you have your head right.
This man has handed his entire trust to you, and you stomped all over it.
You will not hurt him anymore. Get your head straight, and then speak to him.
Go shower. I’ll call him and let him know you’re safe. ”
After drying off and dressing, I feel a little more settled. I come downstairs to Victoria plating up some takeout for lunch.
“Ah, there she is. My little runaway,” she says sarcastically.
“Thank you for that.” I roll my eyes at her. “And I know you’re mad at me.”
“Not mad, Iz. Disappointed.” She smirks. Oh shit. The old parent’s line. That’s cruel. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something. You’re not the only one who’s been thinking.”
“Erm, okay,” I say tentatively.
“If James said his safe word or ‘red’, what would you do?”
Alexandra Ravensbrook
“It’s a no-brainer. I’d stop immediately and reassure him.”
“Hmm. Okay.” She taps her finger against her lips. “Would James hurt you? Or do anything to upset you, do you think?”
“Oh, God, no! I trust him completely.” Her logic becomes clear to me now. I feel like an idiot.
She takes a seat at the table and pushes a plate of food toward me. I sit down, feeling like a stupid child.
“If James told you he didn’t trust you to stop, how would you feel?” she asks, her voice kinder now, her hand resting on mine.
A rolling sick feeling twists inside me at the thought.
“It would kill me a little inside,” I reply quietly, the enormity of what I did last night catching up to me. I had well and truly fucked up.
“It did to him, too,” she says, reaching for my phone and passing it to me.
“I called him and spoke to him while you were in the shower. Isabelle, that man is so deeply in love with you; the very thought of upsetting you devastates him. The idea that you may not trust him to take things slow, gentle, and considerately for you… I’ve never heard a man cry, Iz.
Not until this morning. Please, go talk to him.
You need to let go of your fear. I know that’s hard. You know I understand that.”
Yes, Miss
Vic had left a very violent relationship years ago and was assaulted many times by her dickhead ex. She knows the lingering doubts that haunt you.
“I will.” All appetite leaves me, nausea settling in.
“Eat first. And I’m staying in the spare room tonight. If you aren’t back by six, I’m going to the club without you.” She devours her fried chicken like an animal, making me laugh as I attempt to eat my own.
I knock on James’ door quietly, nervous to see him.
To know Vic has spoken to him eases my worries a little, but I have some serious grovelling to do.
The door opens, and I gasp quietly. James is in sweatpants and nothing else, unshaven, with stubble covering his jaw and looking like he hasn’t slept at all.
He steps back, sweeping his hand to invite me in wordlessly.
I step in, taking in his musky scent and the warmth of his chest as I brush past him. He closes the door and walks into the kitchen, leaving me standing in the hallway. The coldness and lack of contact jars me, and I realise just how much I have lost with him and it tears me apart.
I hear the kettle boiling and follow him in. He grabs two mugs and puts them on the counter, moving an empty whisky bottle and glass aside, evidence of his evening alone.
Alexandra Ravensbrook