Three and a Half Weeks(7)

I couldn’t read the look in his eyes but I knew there was some volatile emotion swirling about in the depths of those silvery blue orbs. He strode forcefully to the large mahogany desk and removed some papers from a locked drawer.

“Here,” he said, handing them to me and sitting back down. “These will afford you a deeper understanding and then I’ll show you my little dungeon.”

“Your what?” The words were out of my mouth before I could do any neural filtering. Dungeon? Had I landed in some kind of twisted fairy tale?

“Relax,” he drawled, “it’s just a word. I’m aware of your innocence and I’m not trying to frighten you, Ariel.”

Could have fooled me. He’d drawn up paperwork with forms attesting to health, hygiene, and the multitude of sexual acts that might be involved. Some of the options were utterly horrifying.

The terminology creeped me out, too. I know sexual slang is crude but somehow it seems more honest and less creepy. The technical terms seem to me as if one is cloaking a base act in a civilized robe… but it remains base: blowjob is honestly descriptive; fellatio is just creepy, even if its literal meaning, to suck, is more direct. I won’t even mention the female equivalent.

I looked up briefly to see Ian smiling in a smug fashion as he watched me reading the various papers. The thought occurred to me that he’d been here already, probably many times over, and suddenly I had to know.

“How many women have you done this with before?”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes inscrutable. “Too many to count. Next question?”

I hated that answer. “Any men?”

“No.”

“Do you find partners wherever you can?”

“Not generally, no. Usually in one place.”

To my questioning look, he responded. “A club where likeminded people gather.”

“Not high-priced boutiques then?”

Broadly smiling now, he shook his head. “Never before.”

“Then… why this time?” I was truly puzzled as to why he’d proposition me. Do I send out some subliminal message that I want to be beaten and dominated?” If so, I needed to know.

“I can’t answer that question, Ariel.”

“Why not?”

“Primarily because I’m uncertain as to the answer.”

Oh. Or was it an aha moment? He didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a victory of some sort… or be insulted. Rubbing my lips together in nervousness, I put it aside for the moment.

I looked at the paperwork again and began to wonder about all those women who’d sat here before me. The world was a strange, frightening place if one chanced to look into dark corners.

“Why are you like this? Is it to keep yourself at an emotional remove?” I finally got up the gumption to ask.

He reared back, as if I’d slapped him. Then he closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, his face was impassive again. “Once burned, twice shy.”

“Who burned you?” I whispered the question, afraid to ask it, and afraid he’d answer it.

“A girl.”

“A girl?”

“A girl… I loved… or thought I did anyway.”

Aha. “So this type of sexual relationship is your way of keeping emotionally detached?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“A manner of speaking, i.e. you don’t want to fall in love again?”

“I’m not even sure I ever was in love to begin with… but to answer your question, no, Ariel, I do not.”



Later that night, he made up for all of the weirdness by being sort of romantic—definitely seductive. If nothing else, Ian wasn’t letting me escape until I’d at the very least surrendered my chastity. He must have seen it as a conquest—and he was all about conquests. So I finally lost my charter membership in the virgin forever club. If not for the conversations that preceded it in his office earlier that day and then just an hour before in his library, I would have felt my fantasy fulfilled. He was gentle, sweet, and achingly sexy. I was thrilled to have Ian as my first.

I spent the night and the next day with him. The following evening he drove me home himself, kissed me chastely on the cheek, and wished me goodnight. That night, instead of sleeping, my mind endlessly rehashed all of the requirements of the position that Ian was offering me: no emotional intimacy, slavish obedience of his rules, no looking at him without permission, kneeling at his feet during scenes, no public relationship, and strict adherence to monogamy—I wasn’t even allowed to cheat on him with myself, if you get what I mean. I’d belong to him… but he wouldn’t belong to me.