Safeword: Davenport(16)

Dana absorbed his words a few seconds before saying, “We got grief from the community about safewords also, but in our case it was because if I safeworded, I had to compensate by enduring a different kind of pain. Some in the scene accused him of punishing me for using a safeword, but it wasn't punitive. For instance, if I couldn't handle something he did with needles—if I gave a slow signal he'd usually help me deal with it, give me time in between, or maybe move in from another direction. However, if I said the stop safeword he'd remove the needles as quickly and gently as he could, make sure I was okay, bandage whatever might need it, and put everything away. Once I'd recovered to his satisfaction he'd put me through his estimation of about one and a half times the pain I'd safeworded out of—hours of exercise, or a cane, or some other devious torment. It worked for us because I had a way of stopping a scene if was truly too much, but it wasn't an easy out."

"Did it work for you last night, agreeing to ten strokes with no safeword?"

Dana had thought about this, and was happy he'd brought it up so she didn't have to. “Yes, but I don't think asking me in the heat of the moment should happen anymore. Get me to consent to that sort of thing before the scene, not during.” Her words sounded bossier than she intended, so she tried to explain. “I'm not sure how I feel about it right now, but I felt submissive to you, and it appears the process of putting me into a headspace where pain is a good thing also triggers my need to submit. We'll have to figure it out, but the idea we can do this without power exchange is a pipe dream.” She took a breath and finished, hoping he understood what she was trying to say. “And asking me to negotiate once I'm in that frame of mind—"

He interrupted her. “You're right, of course; no more of that unless I've cleared it beforehand.” He moved her dishes to his tray and stood. She followed, not realizing she was still naked until she was up. She looked at Zach, with his boxers on, and reached for the sheet.

He motioned behind her. “Get a robe from the closet. We bought them for our guests to use, when we threw parties, one should fit."

She found one in her size and followed him with her empty tray, wiping them down as he loaded the dishwasher. “How'd you get the wax off so easily last night?"

"It's an oily wax, supposed to nourish to your skin, and peels off easier than straight paraffin. I originally intended to use the normal stuff, but when I was reaching for it, the oily seemed the right choice. It meant I didn't get to flog it off you, but I was happy with the way the scene flowed. A few flecks remained behind from the pillar candles—we can take a shower and I'll get those off you now, if you'd like."

"Honestly, I should probably head home to get ready for work. I need to finish some final prep before I meet a new client."

"Okay, give me ten minutes and I'll drive you. Are we still on for Friday? Pick you up at six?"

"Yes, I look forward to it."

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Chapter Six

* * * *

Dana pushed the buttons on the elevator, knowing Zach would prefer to but needing to feel a little in control. Dinner had been nice, and the symphony performance was mesmerizing. She'd enjoyed his friends and felt as if all but one of the women liked her. When the group split up after the concert, she'd invited him to her place for drinks.

Zach was quiet on the ride up, but as she was unlocking her door said, “You invited me here so we'd be on your turf."

She sighed. “Maybe. I do want to talk about a few things, and we're less likely to jump into a big scene without all your toys."

"Maybe we can chat in the hot tub?"

Giving him a get real look, she said, “Let's start in the living room, shall we?"

She stepped out of her shoes three steps inside her doorway—standing in the lobby to hobnob during intermission had done a number on her feet. Walking straight to her small bar area, she pulled down two whiskey glasses and opened the cabinet doors to show off her liquor collection. “I'm gonna fix myself a Jack and Coke, what'll you have?"

His eyes skated over the bottles. “How about a rum and Coke."

"I've got light, gold, dark, and overproof. Dark works well with Coke, unless you prefer one of the others."

He raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Whatever you think is best."

She mixed their drinks, showing off a bit since she'd bartended her way through college, and handed him his drink as she started towards the living room.

She sat on the sofa and assumed he'd sit beside her, so she wasn't sure what to think when he chose one of the chairs instead.

"I don't bite. Or, not too hard anyway."