She'd put down her fork, having eaten the last bite, and he gestured to her. "Come over here."
She complied, scooching into the booth next to him. He stretched his arm out behind her and turned her so she hooked her leg over his knee.
"So, the other day, the James Garner thing," he said. "If you could--without guilt--request anyone to die with you so you'd have them for company on that journey, who would it be? First person who jumps into your head."
"Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?"
"Maybe."
She sniffed and pretended she was going back to her side of the table, but he put a hand on her knee, keeping her still. He played with her ponytail, twining his fingers in it. "So spill. Who would it be?"
"I guess it would be Marcus and Thomas. If something isn't right, Marcus steps in and makes it right." She deepened her voice and imitated her friend. "'Hey, what the hell is this Pearly Gates shit? Heaven's a gated community? Really? Who's in charge here?' Thomas would calm him down and be the pure soul that gets Marcus and me in despite all our flaws." Who would your person be? Or persons?"
His expression was thoughtful, but his eyes dwelled upon her in a way that held her still. Like a bird in his hand, as he'd described at the lake.
"I'll tell you another day," he said.
Since he didn't say anything further and seemed lost in thought, she chose to remain quiet. Thinking he'd want to put his hair back up before he returned to the job site, she took the band from his wrist and scooted closer to comb her fingers through his hair and pull it back from his face, working the band over the thick tail in a double wrap. He dipped his head down to accommodate her and, when she finished, she let her fingers linger on his rough jaw.
He looked up, their faces close. "You've eaten, so there's another answer you owe me."
The increase in tension in his fingers on her shoulder, in his leg beneath hers, told her the answer mattered. She wanted to give him the answer he wanted, but it was how much she wanted to give him that answer that worried her. But he'd said this took courage, didn't it? She was far less courageous than he thought, but maybe, just this one last time...
"You've told me what I need to know, Des. If you mean it, I want to keep going forward. I want to be with you, keep figuring things out with you. I think we've already passed the point where I'd choose anything different, anyway. But watching you do a session with another woman...that's going to be a tough one for me. I'm a traditional girl, all in all, and this world is new to me. I'm going to have some out of sync moments about it."
His fingers dropped to stroke the valley of her spine beneath her shirt. Her answer had changed his eyes to that copper intensity. If there'd been room in the booth, she suspected he would have pulled her onto his lap then and there. She wondered how late he could be back to work and if either of their vehicles would accommodate two grappling adults. Were there any isolated parks nearby?
Fortunately--or not so fortunately--he helped distract her. "Maybe when you see me perform with Missive, it will help. And you can ask me anything you want about that, before or after."
"Not during?"
"Well, Miss Director, I have no problem with you walking out on stage and making it a Q&A, but I think your audience might." He became more serious, hand returning to her leg, gliding up and down her thigh. "It does get intense. So if you do end up feeling unhappy about it, promise me something. Don't walk away. Let's talk it out. I think it will be easier to talk about it afterward, after you've watched it first, rather than trying to hash out all your possible reactions beforehand. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Hey." He tapped her forearm. "In case I haven't stated it clearly enough, if we're walking this path together, I'm not planning on having sex with someone else in a session. Or out."
It was reassuring to hear, though a BDSM scene was sexual by nature, whether actual sex happened or not. But it was something. She wasn't going to be a baby about it or quiz him about particulars. Not right now. It was like he'd said. They'd just wait and see how she reacted to his stage performance.
She closed her hands around his on her thigh. "All right. Is it okay if we keep it kind of light until opening night? That still feels like a turning point to me, a starting line, if that makes sense."
He didn't say anything for a few moments, studying her as if he was considering variables beyond her comprehension. When she was about to shift uncomfortably, he spoke.
"I think you might be right. I'll plan accordingly."
He didn't explain that further, shifting topics. "But I want to see you between now and then, Julie, and not just when I come in to do my part for the performance. How about a couple normal dates, when you can fit it in?"
"That sounds good." Perversely, she was caught between happiness that he wanted to keep pursuing this like a real relationship and disappointment he wasn't overriding her caution and taking her to a dungeon lair where he could shatter her mind.
He muttered something under his breath and leaned in to speak against her ear, teasing it with his mouth and his tongue as he did so.
"You don't have a poker face at all, love." The suggestion he subsequently planted in her mind was enough to push away any worries and send erotic shivers through her body. Her fingers tightened around his hand, the one that had been inching up her thigh. As he drew back enough to stare into her eyes, she realized Des could be pushed beyond civilized behavior, even in a public place.
"When will that date be?" she managed in a breathy voice.
"Sometime after that starting line. Sooner rather than later." His voice dropped to a whisper, sending shivers down the side of her throat and tingling through her body. "Though it may happen sooner than that. All sorts of things can happen on a 'normal' date."
His eyes glowed with the promise of it.
Despite sexual frustration and what she'd decided to dub sub-anxiety, a state where a submissive personality wanted more, more, more, now, now, now, she was in a good mood when she returned to the theater. She was ready to sing some more Taylor Swift. She ignored Harris's snicker and finished out the rest of the day with a million thoughts in her head.
When he and the scattering of stage hands went for a dinner break before the dry tech run, and she had the theater mostly to herself for the next half hour, she knew it was at last time to make a call. She'd done the texting thing the last few weeks as promised, and Marcus and Thomas had both responded regularly. They'd also emailed and posted things on social media to let her know they were no farther away than she needed them to be.
She felt guilty she'd pushed them away as she sorted things out for herself, but they were the type of friends who would understand. Well, Thomas would, and he would help Marcus to understand. Marcus just liked to control everything. She grinned and took a seat on the empty stage, punching the button on her phone that would connect her to Marcus.
It wasn't purely a social call. She needed to understand a few things that only Marcus could explain from the Dom, aka Des, perspective. What he couldn't, Thomas would, but she generally went to Marcus first. Must be the sub in her.
She smiled again, the gesture broadening at Marcus's opening line.
"She did remember how to dial a phone. I was beginning to think being beneath the Mason Dixon line had made you forget about technology all together."
Thomas had once said that Marcus had Lucifer's voice, a purring masculine timbre that could bring the deadest libido to life, male or female. She wasn't immune, but she'd been exposed to it enough not to become brain dead from its influence. She sniffed.
"Typical Northerner. Assuming anyone in the South is an ignorant hick."
"Hey, I married one of those hicks. I should know."
She laughed. "He'd punch you in the gut for that."
"Fortunately I have abs of steel."
"To match your head of solid rock. How are you guys?"
"Ah, how I've missed your lovely ego strokes." He chuckled, another weapon in h
is seduction arsenal he could wield with intent. Yet it was far more devastating when used as it was now, with such unconscious awareness. He picked up on her desire for a casual opening easily enough, giving her the highlights of a reassuringly normal day-to-day on their end of things. Gallery showings, temperamental artists, the latest happenings in the New York social scene, the parties Thomas hated to attend but were necessary to help promote his ever more popular work.
"He's still charmingly thrilled every time someone gushes over his art, which is why he does so well at the parties, despite hating the attention." Marcus didn't bother to conceal his tender fondness for his spouse. "He's like the kid watching the adult Christmas party, hiding in the shadows at the top of the stairs. He wants to listen to what people are saying about his pieces without having to be in the midst of the social scene."
"Well, he's a shy farm boy and always will be." Julie used the term with affection, since Marcus often called Thomas 'farm boy.'
"True. Every morning he marks the calendar with a big red X, one day closer to heading back to his little rustic corner of the world."
"I can't wait for that myself. When?"
"Not long. Linda will handle my gallery like she normally does, because I've promised Thomas we can stay in North Carolina several weeks. I can always take a quick flight back up for a day or so if I have to. He needs some uninterrupted time to work on new material. He does fine here, but his best stuff happens when he's surrounded by farm animals and his mother. Which might be an unnecessary distinction."
"Ooh, I'm going to tell Elaine you said that. She'll whack you with one of her wooden spoons."
"It's our form of familial affection. How long do I have to make idle conversation before you tell me what's up?"
"You can feel the vibes?"
"Like a New York symphony overture. Not that I don't enjoy our casual banter immensely, but you called for a reason. Tell me."
"I met someone. I think he's...different. I wasn't going to ever get involved with anyone again. You know that, I told you that."
"A decision I knew was misguided, but I held my tongue because I'm a good friend who waits for the right moment to say 'neener, neener, neener, I told you so.'"
"Something I really appreciate about you." She paused. "He's different, Marcus. Terrifying, brilliant, special. I'm scared, because I'm so gone over him, so fast."
"How is he different?" His voice had sharpened, reminding her Marcus had a very protective side when it came to those he considered his family.
"He's...well, he's a Dom. A rigger. He does rope. He's going to be performing in our opener. I hope you guys can come to at least one of the four shows."
"Hmm." Marcus didn't say anything for a second, making her wonder what he was thinking about Des. His next question told her he was mulling. "That's a short run, isn't it?"
"We're on a limited budget right now, and it's not really that kind of show. But if it does well with the audience and in reviews, the buzz should improve demand for longer running productions."
"Good marketing move. So he's a Dom and a rigger. Does he know what he's doing? Who do you have to vouch for him?"
"Logan. He almost didn't need the references. When I'm with him, I get a really safe feeling. But he's also cruel in the right ways, if that makes sense. Cruel might not be the best word. Ruthless?"
"That edge you crave without it cutting you to pieces. You've been down that road before, looking for it with the wrong guys. Not your fault," Marcus added, drawing out the sting. "The world's full of assholes and you have the biggest heart of any one I know, except Thomas."
She stayed silent a few beats. "Marcus, will you and Thomas meet him?"
"Try to keep us from it, baby."
Love flooded her. "I really do adore you guys."
"Oh sure, you just say that because we once gave you the best orgasm of your life and made you pancakes."
"It's no longer the orgasm against which I measure all others. And he just took me out for pancakes." She examined her nails, in the mood to be playful. Marcus didn't disappoint.
"Oh, really?" he drawled. "Lucky for you, we won't consider it a competition."
"Would you if I asked? I'm happy to be a test subject. First Des could try, then you guys could try. We could do a six out of a ten thing. Okay, maybe three out of five. Six times at once might kill me, but what a marvelous way to expire."
"You twisted, sick woman. So this guy is into sharing?"
She sobered, remembering the questions she'd intended but hadn't really wanted to ask. "Yes. No. I don't know."
"You're not a polyamory type of girl," Marcus said.
"Does that make me old-fashioned? Stupid?"
"I would remove the left lung of any man who made a move on Thomas," Marcus said without a change of inflection. "And twist his nuts off. Does that answer your question?"
Julie sighed. "Des is really good at the rigging stuff. He's considered an artist in the BDSM community here, and so he's popular with subs who want to experience it under his hands. Who am I to argue? Hell, I've been there and it's out of this world."
She rocked back and forth on the edge of the stage. "He says he's not going to have sex with any of them while he's with me, and I'm glad for that, but I know the whole thing is sexual in nature. So will I get more comfortable with that as I go along, or am I just not wired this way and it's doomed before we start? He kissed me and told me he doesn't kiss them that way. I'm not sure if I'm okay with him kissing them any kind of way. And didn't I say I wasn't going to do a relationship again? I just freaking met this guy."
"Stop. You're panicking yourself and doing your run-on, redundant babbling thing."
"Oh, this is amateur stuff. I did a filibuster on him at his job site earlier today."
"He didn't cut and run?"
"No. He took me out for pancakes. Christ, I don't know why any guy hangs around me."
"Hey." The sharpness of Marcus's tone reminded her of Des, so much so that her stomach did that quick pretzel knot cinch of sexual awareness. "We've talked about this. You are a fucking amazing woman. You don't let some asshole who can't figure that out drag you down."
"I know. I know." She drew herself up, made herself believe it. Hadn't she just castigated herself for letting the poor opinions of others tear her down? The joy of dysfunction: no memory retention. "I'm nice, and fun, and interesting, and I just want someone to love me for me. And it feels like...this guy might be able to do that, Marcus. I'm fucking scared to death. I got used to handling rejection and failure. It became familiar ground. Talk about being twisted. And this has all happened in a blink. I care about him. I want to be in love with this guy."
"Easy." Marcus's tone gentled, picking up on the break in hers. "There was more to this conversation, wasn't there?"
"Yeah. A lot of stuff I haven't processed yet. I think focusing on this is the easier part, to tell the truth. So can we stick with it for the time being?"
"All right." She heard a noise and a click and realized he'd switched from his hands free to the phone so she'd have his full attention. "So, say you and this guy keep on this road together. Would he stop doing sessions with other subs to keep you?"
"I couldn't ask him to do that. He is really good at this. I saw video. Even when I was six years old and had cartilage like a rubber band, I couldn't bend the ways he ties some of these women. I think as long as I can keep it separate in my head like any other stage production, I can manage my feelings about it."
She wished they could video chat. She imagined Marcus in his New York penthouse, putting together a salad for dinner while Thomas finished something in their home studio. If they did video chat, he'd have the hands free tucked in his ear so he could toss the salad with his fine-boned hands, wield the chopping knife, and caress the supple skin of a beefsteak tomato. Watching Marcus do anything was a feast for female senses. She'd observed him from a corner at his gallery, directing his assistant manager with silent signals as he spoke on
the phone or tapped on his laptop. Unlike most men, he was an impressive multi-tasker.
"But you'll talk to him if it becomes a problem."
"Maybe. I don't want to change who he is just because I'm insecure and have had a couple of boyfriends who thought monogamy was a high school virus."
"It's good to know your triggers," Marcus said evenly. "But no matter who or what he is, you do what's best for your physical and emotional wellbeing. If you don't, I'll kick your ass, and so will Thomas. The same thing you'd do for us--and have done for us--when we were trying to figure out how to make our relationship work."
She laid back on the stage to stare up at the ceiling. They'd had no leaks since Des had patched the roof. "I'm being a dumbass about this, I know. Oh, Marcus, what have I done? He makes me feel so incredible, so special and wonderful. When I see him, I ache inside. I said I wasn't going to do this to myself again."
"And as I said, we indulged your delusion. You want to be in love, Julie. You have so much love to give. Don't deny yourself that opportunity just because the road has dead ended so many times."
"I don't think I can handle another selfish jerk."
"All of us can be selfish jerks. It's the human condition. The question is whether it's his predominant super power or a balanced part of a whole pool of traits that makes you want to dive right in." He paused and murmured something.
"What?"
"Thomas just emerged from his studio and called me Superman. I was obliged to flip him the bird and threaten his life."
Julie smirked, but her mind was still caught up in the conversation. "I think I'm already in the water, close to being over my head."
"You have friends who can pull you out if needed." Marcus's voice was a stroking reassurance. "Julie, we love you. We both hope this is your guy, the one you've deserved for so long. Don't be looking for ways to shoot him down arbitrarily. How you talk about him is new for you, and I'm going to take that as a good sign. Here. I'm going to hand you over to Thomas so he can do that nurturing crap he's so good at."
"You're actually not so bad at it yourself, no matter the hard-ass routine."
"I am a hard-ass. Just ask anyone. If this guy doesn't treat you right, he'll find out first hand."