“Yes.” My voice comes out hoarse and rough.
“Would you like some water?” he asks.
I nod.
“I’ll be right back. Just lie back and rest.”
He rises from the bed, and I watch his tight butt as he heads for my kitchen. In the silence, my gaze wanders to the candle he’s placed on my dresser, its flame dancing in the otherwise dark room.
The initial satisfaction fades and a deep shame over what I’ve done—with a perfect stranger, a man I’ve hired—threatens to overwhelm me. Confused by the quick shift in my emotions, I blink back tears.
I rest my eyes for a few moments and when I open them, he’s standing over me wearing nothing more than boxers that barely contain him and the generous swell at the front. His eyes are soulful, and his look is one of concern. He brings a glass of cool water to my lips, and I take a long drink, grateful for his compassion.
“Are you okay with everything that happened?” he asks, noticing my solemn mood.
“Yes, I’m fine.” It was just a blow job, for goodness’ sake. But I think some part of me knows it’s only the tip of the iceberg. Submission. Blindfolds. What’s next? Before I have time to ponder that, his cell phone rings.
He apologizes as he grabs his pants from the floor and fishes his phone from the pocket. As he looks down at the screen, he frowns. “Do you mind if I answer? It might be something important.”
“It’s fine.”
When he hits a button, the sound of feminine voice crying in the otherwise silent room startles us both. In the darkened room, he must have inadvertently activated the speaker phone.
“Hale?” she sobs, her voice frantic.
He quickly takes the phone off speaker and presses it to his ear. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.” His tone is soothing, worried.
Hale…is that his name? What kind of name is that? It’s surprisingly fitting. Its association with the weather, forceful and a little scary, is just like him. I love it. I wonder who the woman is, a sister? A friend? My stomach sinks when I realize she could be another client.
It’s impossible not to listen, and he makes no move to leave the room or prevent me from overhearing. Whoever the woman is, she’s sobbing, and though I can’t make out what she’s saying, he listens attentively, repeatedly telling her that everything will be okay in a solemn and comforting tone. After several minutes of kind encouragements, he tells her that he’s not alone, and that he has to go. He ends the conversation by telling her to run a warm bath and make herself a mug of tea, and that he will check on her later.
When he hangs up, his posture is so rigid he looks like he could crush the phone in his hand. He releases a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry about that.”
Of course I want to ask who the mystery woman is, but remember we’ve made an agreement not to delve into each other’s personal lives. “Is…is she okay?”
“Do you know what aftercare is, Brielle?”
“No.”
“Chrissy is a submissive at a club I belong to. She was shaken up after a rough scene with a Dom tonight, and he left before she could talk with him about what she had just experienced.”
“And she trusted you to talk her through it?”
“Yes.” He places his hand against mine and meets my eyes. “We will always talk about how you’re feeling after a lesson. I won’t leave until I know you’re okay. And if you have questions, or unexpected emotions pop up afterward, you can call me. I have a cell phone number for clients that I’ll give you.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry tonight’s lesson got cut short. I didn’t intend for that to happen.”
“That’s okay. It sounds like she needed you.”
I wonder what that means, a submissive at a club he belongs to. A sex club? Does he play with her too? A pang of jealousy flares inside me, but I ignore it. He’s a Dominant hired by scores of women for sexual instruction, yet there’s no denying he’s a caring partner. I’m not mad; I’m more curious than anything.
“How many women are you mentoring?”
His hand comes to rest on my shoulder. “You’re the only one I’m concerned with.”
His non-answer sets me at ease more than it should. “So, what does aftercare usually involve?”
He hands me my glass of water, encouraging me to drink more. “It can be discussion over what just happened, cuddling, kissing, or even vanilla intercourse if the scene didn’t involve sex.” He waits while I consider everything I’ve learned tonight, and tucks the quilt tighter around me. “Any other questions?”