I flung myself at her for a hug that knocked us both back onto the bed. First, she grunted with surprise, then she laughed.
“Thank you,” I said. “I needed to hear that.”
“So you’re not quitting?”
“No. It sucks and I hate it, but I’m pushing through.”
Kris smiled. “Good. You’re amazing at this. It would be a shame if other people didn’t get to see that because one choreographer is a jerk.”
I looked into her beautiful green eyes and I knew at that moment. I knew I shouldn’t, and that the timing was wrong, and that it probably lead to nothing but heartbreak. But it was too late. I’d tried to fight the feeling creeping up on me and I couldn’t any longer.
I was completely and utterly in love with Kris.
Chapter Twenty-three
Realizing I was in love with my dom a few weeks before I went on tour was incredibly awkward and inconvenient. I felt the need to tiptoe around and hold back with Kris, because I didn’t want her realizing that I’d caught full-blown feelings. It was like what had happened months earlier but a thousand times worse because I knew I should talk to her, even while I knew that doing so could be bad news for both of us.
She seemed to chalk this distance up to my nerves and exhaustion from rehearsals, and she let it go. Unfortunately, my nerves and exhaustion were also real, and I desperately wanted the encouragement and support—not to mention the release of kink and sex—that she offered, even though each second of attention she gave me made me flush with emotion.
I couldn’t just enjoy her attention or kindness, because I was worrying about how she felt, and how she might feel if she knew how I felt. Two weeks before my show opened, she came home early with a present wrapped in shiny silver paper. I loved presents, but as soon as I saw it, I got flustered. What did a present mean?
“Open it.” Kris beamed at me and handing me the box. I was standing in the kitchen getting out plates. I fiddled with the little white takeout box.
“I hope you like it,” Kris said when I didn’t take the present.
“I’m sure I will,” I said. I felt beads of sweat form on my upper lip. What was wrong with me? I was in love, that was what was wrong with me.
Carefully, I unwrapped the box, setting aside the silver paper on the counter. Kris bounced from foot to foot, an uncharacteristic goofy grin on her face. The thin white box was glossy cardboard with the name of very posh store embossed on the front. I raised my eyebrows.
Inside the box, cuddled in tissue paper, was a bright red trench coat. I lifted it carefully, like I might break it. The lining was polka dot satin, and every inch was as soft as butter to the touch. The stitches were tiny and identical to each other. It had real shell buttons, tons of discreet pockets, and a reversible belt with matching red on one side and the satin polka fabric on the other. I adored it. It was the nicest coat I’d ever touched.
“Try it on,” she said with a huge smile.
I shrugged off my hoodie and surrounded myself in my new coat. It fit perfectly. Even though I was short and I typically needed every sleeve and pant leg hemmed, this coat needed no alterations. It hugged my strong arms and generous butt without being too tight. When I cinched the belt, I looked down to see my body looking like an old-fashioned movie star bombshell.
“Whoa, Kris, it’s amazing. Why are all the full-length mirrors upstairs?”
I rushed up the stairs with Kris trailing behind me. In my bedroom, I twirled in front of the mirror. I looked amazing. I felt amazing.
“I love it,” I said. “It’s perfect.”
Kris smiled, her eyes full of pride. “I hoped you’d like it.”
“How’d you get the perfect size?”
She looked sheepish. “I took in your green jacket from the hall closet and had the sales lady help me. I was hoping it would be okay.”
“It’s a lot more than okay.” I hugged her. “I can’t believe it. I love this!”
She held me by the hips and looked at us in the mirror. She brushed her lips to the top of my head and kissed my hair. She whispered in my ear, “You are my fantasy come to life.” Then she bit my earlobe, kissed her way down my neck.
The thought that I should hold back—that I wanted something different than she did, that I was not her fantasy come to life because I was in love with her—flashed in my mind. But a second later, that thought was washed away by the feeling of Kris’s mouth on my skin. She grabbed my belt and yanked me closer to kiss me full on the mouth.
She drifted away from me for a moment and looked into my eyes. “Yeah?” she asked softly.
“Green,” I said and leaned in for another kiss. Kris rested a palm against my hip and tenderly caressed me through the fabric. I lost myself kissing her. Before I knew it she was nipping at my lower lip, teasing me with her tongue, and angling me toward my bed.
“Isn’t part of your fantasy that I say no to you?”
“My fantasy is that you do whatever you want. And that sometimes you’ll give me control for a little while, because you want to.”
“I do want you to,” I whispered. I wanted more than anything to lose myself in the sensations she could give me. “I want to be yours right now, however you want me.”
“I want to make it hurt, and then make you come,” she said. “And I want you to get me off.”
“Green, green, green.”
She grabbed me by the hair and kissed me hard. “Everything off but the coat. Put on some heels. Meet me downstairs in three minutes.”
Kris swaggered out of the room. I pulled off my yoga pants and panties, and unbuttoned my coat to ditch my loose T-shirt and my sports bra. Then I wrapped myself in the coat again, tied the belt, and climbed into my tallest heels. I tottered down to the stairs and into the lavender room.
She was lying on the bed, looking at her watch. “You barely made it in time,” she said.
“But I made it.” I climbed on top of her and I slid my hand under her pants and into her boxer briefs. She was already drenched. I maneuvered her clothes down past her ass to avoid the pinch of fabric as I went to work on her clit. I stroked her there, steady and direct, for a minute before she stopped me and pulled her pants back up.
“It’s not time for that yet, princess,” she said.
“What’s it time for then?”
“It’s time for me to hit you. Stand up. Take off the coat for me.”
Slowly, I dropped the perfect coat to the ground.
“On your knees. Don’t move.”
I held my breath while she went to the closet to find the implements she wanted. I wanted to wiggle out of my heels, but I didn’t dare without permission. I heard the slap of leather against her hand. It was a heavy paddle.
“Remember in the beginning when I tried everything out on you?” she asked.
“Yes.” I was dripping.
“Today, I want to break you open.”
“Yes please.” As answer, she slammed the paddle against my ass. I cried out. Kris hit me again with the paddle a dozen more times, with her full strength again and again.
“Color?” she asked.
“Green.” I ached but wanted more.
Kris trailed the paddle up my back, swatting me with it as she went. She kept it irregular enough to prevent me from bracing myself. Then she trailed the paddle down, over my stinging ass, along the back of one thigh, then the other. Each leg got several smacks, but none as hard as the paddling she gave my ass.
I thought she was done, but then she started rubbing the paddle against my slick pussy. Kris hit me once there, making me yelp.
“Ow!” I shouted.
She laughed. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“Yes.”
“Take off the heels, put the coat back on, and I will.” She lay back on the bed.
I kicked off my shoes, wrapped myself in my new coat, and lowered myself over her mouth. I felt her hot, gasping breath on my sensitive skin.
“This won’t
take long,” I said. “If you want me to come.”
“There’s nothing I want more, except maybe to slap you.”
I scooted off her, gave her a kiss on the lips, and offered her my face.
Kris slowly stroked my cheek. Then she slapped me hard, leaving my face stinging. I exhaled and climbed back on her face. The coat fell around my thighs, obscuring her almost completely. I rocked against her tongue as her hands roamed over me. I came faster than even I’d expected. It felt too soon almost, and I felt a tinge of regret that I hadn’t lasted longer—hadn’t had more of her like this—when I started to shake and cry out.
I collapsed next to her, both of us panting. Kris laced her fingers between mine. Before my breathing had even steadied, she was guiding my hand back into her pants.
“Give me a second,” I said.
“No. Get me off.”
However tired I felt in that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to follow her orders. I slithered on top of her. She shoved her pants down and I angled my fingers inside her as my thumb pushed steady on her clit. Kris was as wet as I had been. Gracelessly, I pulled up her shirt and sports bra and took one of her nipples in my mouth as I fucked her cunt, circled her clit. Within minutes, I had her writhing and pulling at my hair.
When she finished, she kissed me on the mouth. “Good girl,” she said.
“I do what I’m told.” I batted my eyelashes at her. She pulled me close and I rested my head on her chest. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but sometimes I wish I weren’t leaving,” I said.
“Sometimes I wish that too. But you’ll come back, right?”
“Yeah.” I wanted to tell her then that I loved her and that I didn’t just want to come back to what we’d had. I wanted to come home to her as her girlfriend. But I didn’t want to upset her so instead I said, “I really love my coat.”
She kissed my hairline. “It suits you.”
“It makes me feel powerful. Like I could do anything.”
“Good, because you can.”
“Even handle my choreographer problem?”
“You know what I notice? Sometimes you like teaching and sometimes you hate it, you usually love performing, but what you really seem to be happiest doing is putting together your routines with Sasha.”
“I guess that’s true. I love figuring out a new way of putting things together, and it’s a lot easier for me to learn a trick because I want to perform it or I know it will work best than it is because somebody else says I have to. And it’s most fun when I’m collaborating with somebody as equals.” I lazily drew shapes on her stomach. “I like to keep my submission in the bedroom not the workplace, you know?”
“Well, the bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom…”
I gave her a playful shove. “Okay, I like being creative in my performances. What’s your point?”
“What would you do if this were your show? If you were in charge?”
I thought for a minute. “If it were my show, I would have turned over some creative control to the cast and credit their contributions. If it were my show, I would have a choreographer who’d been an aerials teacher, so they had a sense of how to instruct people and not just how to put together routines that look great, because I’d want to get the best performances out of the individuals. I’d play to people’s strengths. I’d make a point to hire more diverse performers. But really, I’d want to do something smaller and more original. I love this story, but I’d want to tell something we haven’t already heard tons of times before. I’d want to put on a beautiful show with a deeper message.”
“Why don’t you?” she asked. “You could make the show you really want.”
“It would cost a ton. Rehearsal space, costumes, paying the performers, the crew, sets, lighting, advertising, plus we’d need a venue.”
“What if it wasn’t a lot of performers, though? Just you, maybe Sasha, maybe a few other people who are really dedicated?”
I realized that we’d have access to rehearsal space most of the time we were touring. Sasha usually made our costumes with my help anyway. And since I hadn’t touched my savings living with Kris, I had money to use. Did I want to create a show? Not just some routines for gigs, but a full-length show of my own?
“You are a fucking genius,” I told Kris.
She laughed. “I try.”
We had that Monday off for Memorial Day and I spent the time pricing out various costs and sketching out ideas. It occurred to me that with some luck and a lot of work, we could put on a show. At lunch on Tuesday, I pulled Sasha aside.
“After this run is over, what are your plans?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Whatever the Universe has in store for me. Come back here maybe and go back to the same things with a better network, unless I find something really appealing on the road. What about you?”
I smiled. “I want to create a show. Our own show. Something we can direct and star in and make exactly what we want.”
She laughed. “Are we starting an aerial theater company?”
“Why not? We have six months of good money. For the whole time we’re on the road we have access to a rehearsal space that we don’t have to pay for, tons of exposure, and we’ll be networking with everyone in aerials all over the country. We could find producers just by going to work. What better time to start putting together a show?”
She cocked her head. “We could do this, actually. It’d be a great way to establish ourselves. Come off a big show and immediately have our own? We could get into festivals. We could probably even get funding.”
“Right? So are you in?”
Sasha nodded. “Everything we need comes our way,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-four
The last Saturday before the show opened, Kris hosted a going-away party for me. It took me completely by surprise. She didn’t tell me it was happening until Friday night while we were in the kitchen eating takeout.
“I thought if you knew about it earlier, you’d feel like you needed to help with it, and you don’t,” she said.
“Who did you invite?” I asked nervously.
“Only people I’ve heard you talk about. Sasha, Meghan and Bill, and Eric and Derek. I hope that’s okay, because they’re my friends.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s perfect. I had a panic moment when I thought I’d be spending my last Saturday night off with a million people.”
“Is there anyone else you want me to invite? I could call Ray…”
I shook my head. “That’s a perfect group. Low-key and simple and fun. Where are we all meeting?”
“What do you mean? We’re having it here.” She looked concerned. “Did you want it to be somewhere else?”
“No, I just—you never have people over. I thought it was something you didn’t do.”
“I have people over.”
I patted her hand. “Not since I’ve lived here.”
She frowned. I could see her searching for an occasion to prove me wrong, but she came up empty. “Really? I haven’t had anyone over in almost ten months?”
“I don’t think so, Kris.”
She looked unhappy. “It was worse before you lived here. I lived at work. Sometimes I just slept there. And when I was home, I didn’t leave the upstairs. Sometimes I’d leave work on Saturday and realized that I hadn’t had a single conversation about anything but work in a week. Then I went to a play party or saw a play partner, maybe talked to a friend or called my parents, and tried really hard to be social until I felt too exhausted to stay awake. I’d crash and wake up worrying about work and start it all over again. I didn’t have anyone come to this house once—anyone at all—for six months.”
“It’s different now,” I said. “You’re making changes in your life. It’s not going to go back to that just because I don’t live here.”
She squeezed my hand. “What am I going to do without you?”
I blinked back tears. What was unsaid and seemed unsayable hung in the air l
ike a thick fog. I wanted her as my dom and my girlfriend. Plenty of people had partners in life and in BDSM. Meghan and her husband sprang to mind. But would Kris ever want something like that after what had happened with Laurie? Would she want it with me even if she did? I felt too vulnerable to ask, with a nerve-wracking final week of rehearsals and the specter of opening night ahead of me. So I hugged her and choked down the last of my tikka masala.
* * *
The party was perfect. Kris had it catered by a Burmese restaurant I loved in Oakland. She was an ideal host, chatting with everyone and getting them drinks and giving them the tour while I sat in the little backyard talking one-on-one with my friends. She’d strung up lights in the yard and packed it with colorful folding chairs. There were, technically, enough for everyone to sit in the yard, though not much room to do anything else.
For a while, we played music in the house and had a goofy dance party in the living room. We all ate tremendously and drank and laughed. I felt incredibly lucky to have these people in my life. I missed John, but Kris had even thought of that. He’d been “invited” to join us on FaceTime, and even stayed up late (with a three-hour time zone difference no less) to virtually attend and talk to me.
Sasha and I talked about the show we wanted to start working on. Bill and I told stories. I got to thank Meghan again for introducing me to Kris and making so much possible and generally being patient and amazing. Derek, who often traveled for work, gave me travel advice. The night was lovely.
Eric settled down next to me last. They’d turned the music back on in the house and we could see everyone dancing through the French doors. I laughed at Kris’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic moves.
“I can’t believe she did all this,” I said.
“She’s in love with you,” he blurted. I did a double take. Eric nodded, a little drunk but completely serious.
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