HARBOR: Beards & Bondage

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  “Okay cool. Have fun with your nerdy lawyer friends. I need nerdy lawyer friends with beach houses on the Cape.”

  “Add it to your vision board, boo.”

  “Not a bad idea. Okay, check in with me or the girls. We love you!”

  “Love you, too.” I end the call and let out a deep breath. Okay, so I may have asked for honesty this weekend and then immediately lied to my sister and my friends. I told them where I’m going. I gave Noa and Liz’s Vaughn’s information and explained that we are meeting up at his boyfriend Shaw’s place, but I didn’t tell them all the dirty details. I didn’t tell them who they really are. Who they are in relation to Josh. Sixteen months. It’s taken sixteen months to get to this point where I don’t feel bad about wanting my own life anymore.

  I cut off the engine and open the door. “Hey,” I say as I climb down from the high cab.

  Shaw comes down the wide brick path leading up to the driveway. Roger follows at his side, wagging his tail. “How was the drive?” Shaw asks as he takes my weekend bag from my hand and kisses my cheek, all in one smooth motion.

  “It was good. Your directions were perfect.”

  “Good. This is Roger. Roger, sit.” The chocolate lab immediately drops his butt to the gravel and looks between the two of us, hoping he did good.

  “Okay, that’s fucking cute. Can I pet him?”

  “He’d be offended if you didn’t.”

  “Hi Roger,” I say, scratching his head. “Aren’t you a good boy.”

  “He’s trying to make up for this morning,” Shaw says as he rolls his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “He ate half of Vaughn’s breakfast and knocked his coffee over his laptop in the process.”

  “No!” Roger barks as if to confirm my horror.

  “Yes. His laptop is okay, but it was a tense couple of hours.”

  “I bet.”

  “Come on in. Vaughn’s making lunch. You hungry?”

  “I could eat.”

  “Good. You’re gonna need your energy.”

  “Oh, it’s like that.”

  “It’s like that. I hope you stretched too.” I think he’s joking. He might not be.

  We walk into a mudroom with a slate floor where we leave our shoes. I follow him into what might have been a sitting room at one point, but now it’s an office. I look around at the mix of old and new. Shaw pauses, letting me take it all in. A large but shallow stone fireplace with a useless mantle takes up one whole wall. There’s a big window with a nice view of the yard. Against the opposite wall is a desk with Shaw’s computer and another drafting table, where plans for something or other are spread out. He has a really intense looking printer and shelves stuffed with books and files and little wood carvings.

  On the wall are framed blueprints of the original structure of the house and the blueprints of the addition, added in 1977. I stop and look at the little metal plaque embossed at the bottom of the frame. The Thomas Haskins House 1705. I don’t know what I expected from Shaw’s home, but this old colonial farm home wasn’t it.

  We continue on and I watch as Shaw has to duck as we walk into the newly remodeled kitchen and dining area. I didn’t realize how low the ceilings are. There’s another original fireplace, but it looks like it’s just for show. Roger’s dog bed is in the hearth. He happily takes a seat and busies himself with the giant rubber bone waiting for him.

  The kitchen’s slightly higher ceilings provide Vaughn with an adequate amount of headroom. He looks good, but different. Like this year since I last saw him kicked his ass a little. Still, he looks good. A few greys have populated his beard and he looks sharp in his tailored Bermuda shorts and polo shirt. I feel a certain way about Shaw. A way I’m not willing to put words to yet. I don’t know how I feel about Vaughn. We haven’t spoken since that night in my hotel room. In my mind, I know I can push Shaw. I can test him. Things are different with Vaughn. I don’t want to hurt either of them, but I feel like I need to protect Vaughn.

  When he turns from whatever he’s making and smiles at me, my whole body warms. He’s full of love, my memory tells me and I know it’s true.

  “You made it,” he says, before he pushes his glasses up his nose. I don’t know how Batman is his hero of choice when all I see is a perfect Black Clark Kent. I cross the kitchen and walk into his arms, wrapping myself around his slender, muscular frame.

  “Thank you guys for having me. What’s for lunch?”

  “Crab cakes and a summer salad. There’s also strawberry shortcake.”

  “That sounds amazing. You a good cook, Vaughn?” I tease.

  “I think I’m okay.”

  “Man,” Shaw sucks his teeth. “He’s a great cook.”

  “What can I say? My mama raised me right.”

  “I’m not mad at that,” I laugh.

  “Why doesn’t Shaw show you to your room? I’m almost done here.”

  “This way,” Shaw says, nodding to the doorway at the other end of the dining space.

  We walk into a formal sitting room with nice blue and white furniture, then head up this narrow-as-fuck staircase.

  “Tight fit, huh?” I laugh as Shaw ducks his head all the way up.

  “It’s a heritage home. I can’t make any changes to the original structure.”

  “I love it, but I’m worried about your poor necks.”

  “I spend most of my time out in the barn. It’s fine. Here you are.” He shows me to a large bedroom that gets plenty of natural light. I wonder if Shaw designed and furnished this whole place himself or if he had help. It’s a lovely, beachy farmhouse, but none of it seems like him or Vaughn.

  “Vaughn has his room right across the hall and my room is down on the other side of the house.

  “You guys don’t sleep in the same room?”

  “We do, but if he’s pissed at me or if I’m being a moody dick about a piece, he’ll tell me to fuck off and sleep up here.”

  “It’s good to have options, I guess.”

  He shows me the bathroom that’s been remodeled. Before he leaves, he steps in close to me, invading my personal space like he did that morning in the hotel. He cups the side of my neck as he looks down at me, his brown eyes calm and searching intently all at the same time. He licks his lips and I think of the way he kisses. After sixteen months, I can still feel the way his lips moved against mine. It’s the best kiss I’ve experienced in my whole life. My whole life. I’ve known this for sixteen months, known that Josh’s lips never felt that good, never tasted that good. Josh made me happy for a while, but Josh never made me feel like I was on the edge of something that could drag me down or liberate me in equal measure. And from the way Shaw is looking at me, it’s like he knows.

  Sure, he knows I’m still hurting. He knows I’m still lonely. But now it’s clear he knows the hope I’ve brought with me to the Cape. The hope that he’s exactly what I need.

  “Come down when you’re ready. We’ll talk over lunch and then after, we’ll get started.”

  “Okay,” I say, but it comes out more like a breath. He doesn’t kiss me this time and as I watch him duck his head to go back down the narrow stairway, I remember why. Let me be the one to kiss you next time. He didn’t forget.

  I sit on the bed and take a deep breath and stock of my current situation. I’m going to spend the weekend with Vaughn and Shaw. I’m going to do things I’ve never done with one man, let alone two. I’m going to do my best not to think about Josh. I’m going to set aside the complex feelings I have about how I lost him. I’m not even going to think about the fact that I’d already lost him before a single shot was fired. This weekend is mine. I’m past due some real selfish pleasure and I think Shaw and Vaughn are more than capable of giving it to me.

  Seven

  Vaughn

  “Everything okay?” I ask as Shaw comes back into the kitchen.

  “Yeah. She’s good. She just needs a minute.”

  “I sent the list to the printer,” I t
ell him.

  “Thanks. I’ll grab it.” Shaw walks into his office and is back a moment later with the revised checklist we went over the night before. It’s been a long time for the both of us, working with someone new, but we agreed. We need Brooklyn to be fully informed so she can feel free to explore what she wants this weekend with us to look like.

  I’ve been thinking about her for months. Resisting the urge to reach out to her, just to say hello, to see if she’s alright. When Shaw told me they’d spoken and that she’d agreed to come up and see us, I wasn’t sure how to feel. The last six months have been rough. Shaw and I took a break. After meeting Brooklyn and seeing how right she was, that there was no quick fix to our grief, along with the ongoing silence from Mrs. Johnson, we thought it would be better to give each other some room before we said or did something we’d regret. It only lasted three weeks, but it was long enough for us to both come to the same conclusion. We were both still feeling pretty fucked up, but we weren’t ready to walk away from what we had together, not yet. Almost a year later and we’re still playing it by ear.

  There are more conversations we should have, but we don’t. Shaw got a dog. Things are okay now. Not back to normal, since that’ll never happen. I’m lonely out in my Back Bay apartment, but Shaw is staying put and I don’t know how to solve my loneliness in a way that isn’t inherently selfish. Shaw sees how I’m struggling. He’s kinder now and puts me first in ways I didn’t know I needed. It’s not enough, I start to see after a while. Still I appreciate it. And I appreciate that he knows I’m excited to see Brooklyn.

  Time changes things. The way you look at someone. Your intentions. My attraction to Brooklyn Lewis was instant, but I knew what she clearly laid out for Shaw the last time they saw each other. At that moment, the three of us crashing together would have made things worse. I’m glad Brooklyn took the time she needed. I’m also glad she reached out.

  Two works. Two works great, but there’s something about three. I still have fucked-up feelings around Corrine. But I can freely admit that I miss aspects of the dynamic we had. Even though this weekend isn’t headed in that direction, I’m glad we get to play with a beautiful woman again and I hope Brooklyn leaves feeling well fucked and well rested. That’s my main goal.

  Shaw and I wait. And wait. Ten minutes goes by and still no Brooklyn. Maybe she’s not ready.

  “Should I go—” the sound of the stairs creaking stops me.

  Brook comes into the kitchen and scratches Roger’s head as he trots over to meet her. “Sorry,” she says with a little smile. “Just needed a moment to freak out and then I had to text my sister.”

  “You’re good,” Shaw says.

  “Let’s eat.” I walk them through my overly elaborate menu for a “quick” Saturday lunch and then we take our seats at the dining room table. I threaten Roger with a stern look and he goes back to his bed before I get him in a headlock. Still haven't forgotten about breakfast.

  “Should we skip the small talk?” Brooklyn says with a nervous laugh once we’re settled. “I mean, I love small talk. Don’t get me wrong. I just—yeah.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Shaw goes over to the counter and grabs the three-page checklist. He hands it to her along with a pen. “This list encompasses most of the possible elements of Dominance, submission, bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism. Are you familiar with all of those terms?”

  “Yes,” Brooklyn nods. “But before we go there, there are just a couple things I need this weekend.”

  “Of course. Go ahead. “

  “Well first, thank you so much for inviting me. Seriously, I love your house. I hope I get to see your workshop and I secretly hope you’ll teach me how to whittle.”

  I almost choke on my iced tea as Shaw cracks a slight smile. “I can show you some basic carving tricks.”

  “Yassss,” she whispers. “Second thing. I don’t know where you guys are emotionally, but I don’t want to talk about Josh. I’ve done a lot of work there and I just can’t with ghosts-Josh’s-past working their way into every moment. I get to feel my feelings, but bringing him into my present and my future does absolutely nothing for me.”

  “We don’t have to talk about what happened, unless you need to,” Shaw says.

  “Intense sexual activity sometimes brings up intense emotions. We don’t want you to force yourself not to talk about Josh if you need to,” I add. “We’ve been intimate with each other, but haven’t been with a third person since—before. I don’t know how that is going to make me feel and I want to be able to talk about it if I need to. That’s part of aftercare.”

  “Right. I read a little about aftercare. You think I’ll need it?”

  “It’s required,” Shaw says. “Even if we just slow dance and watch a movie. You’re gonna feel some type of way about it afterward. It would be very bad for me—for us to tell you to fuck off to bed without seeing how you’re doing emotionally or physically.”

  “You could strain your neck just looking up at me. What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t make sure you were okay?” I say, messing with her a little. She smiles.

  “That’s true. Okay, if I need to talk about him, I will. But, like, let’s not jump in with a ‘remember that time we were all cheated on and they both got murdered.’”

  “Deal. What else?” Shaw asks.

  Brooklyn looks at me then. “I told Shaw on the phone and I’m sure he told you that I need honesty. If you guys aren’t feeling me or if I’m not feeling you as we move along and get to know each other more, tell me. I can handle rejection. I don’t want to be lied to, even if you’re trying to protect my feelings.”

  “I can agree to that and I hope you’ll do the same for us. Even if you’re the slightest bit uncomfortable, please tell us,” I say.

  “I will. Okay. Let’s talk about this list.”

  “So we modified this list to exclude our hard limit items,” Shaw says. “Things that Vaughn and I are absolutely not into and won’t experiment with.”

  “Like what? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Knife play. Blood play. Certain kinds of breath play. Certain bodily fluids.”

  “Ah, yes. Okay.”

  “Also, we like to push each other’s limits, but safety is very important. Even if you’re interested in certain things, that doesn’t mean you’ll feel safe doing them. Keep that in mind,” I say. “We always want you to feel safe. I like a good choking, but I don’t feel comfortable experimenting with electric shock.”

  “Yeah, nope. Okay, let me see.” She takes a bite of her crab cakes then picks up the pen. I modified the list so she can select what kind of experience she has with different things.

  “Just circle what you’d like to try. Or try again. Whatever the case is.”

  “Jesus. I never really thought about how many ways there are to gag someone.” Her gaze slashes to Shaw. “Do you own a pair of manacles?”

  “No, just leather cuffs, but we can order some.”

  “Nah, I think that’s a little bit above my pay grade.” She flips to the last page and then back again. “Yeah, this is a lot.”

  “You don’t have to rush through it,” Shaw says. “We’re just trying to get the ball rolling.”

  “Sorry. My lawyer brain is taking over. I need to take this back to my team for a consult,” Brooklyn says.

  “You can’t rush a lawyer when it comes to contracts,” I say with a chuckle.

  “What’s a typical Saturday of bondage and sadism like for you guys?” she asks.

  “It depends on what Vaughn needs,” Shaw says.

  “Last weekend I was worn out, but also restless, so Shaw gave me a task. Friday night, he tied me up using nylon rope and then I had to make him come without my hands or my mouth. In the morning, I was still on edge so he strapped me to our fucking machine until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Knocked him right the fuck out for the rest of the day,” Shaw said. It was true. I slept all day Sunday
and was ready to go back to work and deal with a pain-in-the-ass client first thing Monday morning.

  Brooklyn sits back and picks up the list again. She flips to page two and lets out a very formal hum of approval. “I’m trying to open my mind to what I want. Not just what I need. Be a little wild here, Brookie,” she says to herself. Then she picks up her pen. I watch her and Shaw as we finish our lunch in silence. Brooklyn takes her time going through the list, slowly eating her food. I clear the table, then continue to wait as Brooklyn checks and rechecks the list.

  “Okay.” She sets down her pen and lightly slaps the table. “We can amend this in the future. Or, like, in an hour when I realize the fucking machine is not for me?”

  Shaw and I both laugh. “Yes. We can amend it anytime. And we don’t have to start with the fucking machine,” Shaw says.

  “Okay, cool. Real talk, I do like the idea of ropes and being tied up, but I’m not there yet. I’d like to watch, though.”

  Shaw and I both share a nod. “We can work with that,” I say. “I like to watch too.”

  “Cool. I can do outdoor stuff, but not public stuff. I’d like to keep my job.”

  “So would I,” I say, thinking of the one time I asked to jerk Shaw off in public and how quickly we almost got caught. The thrill wasn’t actually worth the risk.

  Shaw takes the list back from Brooklyn and gives it a thorough once-over, making a few notes before he hands it to me. I’m happy to see that her interests overlap nicely with ours. She’s interested in submission, but doesn’t have any experience with it. I smile at the little stars Brooklyn has drawn next to her big yes items. She’s hesitant about impact play with certain implements, but is open to hand spanking and flogging. She’s interested in playing with various toys that can be inserted. She’s made a note that she face slapping is a hard no for her. I had added a part that covered physical affection. She’s selected everything, but put a circle around hand-holding, hugging and kissing.

  “Let’s head down to the beach,” Shaw suddenly announces.

  “Right, the beach,” Brooklyn says, her smile still a little unsure.