“Okay, here goes.” I filled her in on some details about the prior night with Brian, including the text message, Jamie subsequently showing up, and finally him coming by my place.
“So did you two—?” she hedged.
I shook my head and smiled at her look of surprise. “To be honest, I would have, but he was adamant that it be a conscious decision instead of a reaction. Then he started talking about boundaries.” I replayed some of our conversation with the exception of him wanting to be dominant. There were some things I’d rather keep personal.
I’d never seen her look quite so amused. She wore a barely contained smile. “Sounds like Brian knows you and wants to ensure that you’re comfortable before starting something.”
“He knows enough, I suppose.” I didn’t think it was a fair statement to say he really knew me when he was in the dark about my anxiety, my therapy, or the traumatic trigger for it all. “I know he’s not purposefully messing with my head, but I’m all sorts of turned upside-down and can’t make heads or tails of anything.”
This time she didn’t bother to hide the smile. “I don’t think he’s messing with your head, either. If anything, it would appear he wants to ensure you are both very clear where this would go and what would happen. Those are two things that hold true in how we’ve done our behavior therapy. You picture the scenario, you imagine yourself in it, and you prepare yourself mentally. If you had slept together last night, I believe you’d be anxious right now thinking about what it meant, and what was going to transpire as a result of doing so. It sounds like he values your priorities and wants you to be certain.”
“He does and part of me has always wanted to, but then I overthink it and start worrying about what might happen.”
As she often did to ensure I didn’t get stuck, she changed subjects. “How is the anxiety at work? You mentioned the last time you were here that dealing directly with clients wasn’t easy.”
“It’s coming along. There are a lot of happy hours and wining and dining which are all outside my normal comfort level, but I’m working through the challenges. Wine helps.”
I had thought I was being funny but saw her eyes narrow. “Sasha, you pushing your limits is good. But I caution you not to bulldoze into things because you feel like you have to prove something to yourself or, worse, to anyone else. We’ve talked about this previously, and I’ve been very pleased with your progress. But remember to respect your disorder at all times. It’s part of your life, and if you start believing that you no longer have it, then you risk having a panic attack when you least expect it. You need to be mindful of your triggers.”
I took a deep breath. It had been at least a year since I’d had an attack, but one never forgot the feeling. And she wasn’t wrong about my need to push myself. I was a glutton for punishment when it came to refusing to accept the control anxiety could have over me. As a result, though, I sometimes made things worse for myself by forcing issues before I was ready to deal with them.
“It’s getting better, and I’ve learned to control it faster.”
“I have no doubt you’re controlling it faster. Look at your position and what you do for a living. But is your level of anxiety honestly getting better? Because I would venture as you’ve progressed in your career, it would naturally get higher.”
“I think anyone in my situation would have high levels of anxiety about proving themselves.”
She nodded and then changed the subject on me again. “I don’t disagree. I like the fact that in thinking about Brian you were distracted enough not to have your usual discomfort in coming home. But talk to me about why you’re hesitant to start something with him.”
I went with the most obvious reason yet again. “My career is really important to me. I’ve worked my ass off the last seven years to become the first female vice president at Gamble Advertising. But with that, I’m under a microscope. It may be part of my anxiety, but I can feel people wanting me to fail.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s true, for anyone in your position. People will be jealous or sexist or have whatever other reason for not wanting you to succeed. But do you feel like you deserved that promotion?”
Self-doubt was also a huge part of my disorder. “I do, most of the time. My biggest worry is that if someone were to find out about me sleeping with him, then they’d think that was why I got promoted. That it would invalidate all of my hard work.”
“So take me through that scenario. Say Brian makes you happy and you two get serious, maybe fall in love. Would there ever be a point where you would feel comfortable with other people knowing?”
“I don’t see that happening.”
“Why not?”
Because Brian was attracted to a woman who was self-assured and put-together. Not one who had to snap a hair band to keep from freaking out in social situations. I expelled an unsteady breath. “He may know more about me than most, and I may feel comfortable with him, but if he were to truly get to know me, he’d be disappointed.”
She put down her pen and studied me. “And there we come to the biggest fear you have, Sasha. I agree that your career is a valid concern. Anyone in your position would most likely feel the same, but the real reason for your hesitation is what you just stated. You don’t feel like he’ll accept you without the armor or that he could possibly love the real you. You’ve done a remarkable job in conquering your self-doubt with regard to your career, but you’ve hardly addressed it in your romantic life. I’d venture to say that you pick your career over love because there’s security in knowing you’ve been successful in it.”
“I hate it when you trick me,” I muttered.
She grinned. “It’s not as if you didn’t realize that already. You simply didn’t want to admit it. If you choose to embark on this relationship, I would strongly suggest you share more with him regarding your triggers and history Sasha. It would be helpful for the both of you, I think.”
I wasn’t so sure. “Do you think it’s possible to have a successful relationship with an anxiety disorder?”
She smiled kindly. “Of course I do. I see it all of the time. I could call around and find someone in New York if you’d like to talk with someone more regularly. It may help.”
“I’ll let you know if I need that. Thanks for your time and Merry Christmas.”
***
After my appointment, I drove down to the beach only a few blocks from my parents’ house, found my spot, and sat down to breathe in the smell of the salt water. The weather was chilly, in the forties, but the crisp, clean air felt good. Beaufort was a small coastal town, outside of the outer banks of North Carolina. Some people referred to it as the other Beaufort, since most people thought of South Carolina when they heard the city name. During the summer it had its share of tourists, either passing through or opting for a quiet beach vacation. But during the winter, it was all local residents. This was the time of year I liked the most as there was nothing like a deserted beach for soul-searching.
Pulling out my phone, I texted Brian. “What are you doing?”
“Calling you,” he replied.
I smiled when the phone rang immediately and answered, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. What are you doing?”
“Sitting on an empty beach. I have about an hour before I need to get back to the house and go to church with the family.”
“I hope you’re not sitting there regretting that kiss last night.”
Considering it was quite the opposite, I eased his mind. “Oh, I’m thinking about the kiss, all right, but not with regret.”
“It’s all I’ve thought about the entire day.”
His voice was doing that husky thing that made my stomach flutter. “Then why didn’t you stay last night?”
“I told you, we need to set rules.”
“Okay, how many are there?”
“There are a few, and you would have the option to choose your own so long as they don’t directly conflict with mine, of course. We can
make them up as we go, revise if needed.”
“And no one outside of us would know about this, um, arrangement?”
“I think it would be best, both professionally and personally, that we keep it between the two of us. Neither of us need the extra pressure.”
“So you wouldn’t tell Josh?”
“No, as long as it didn’t affect our professional relationship.”
I let out a long breath.
“You’re overthinking this, Sasha.”
“Hi, have we met? Of course I am.”
He chuckled. “Even more reason to have an aspect of your life where you don’t.”
“Hmm, maybe. You indicated this is more than one night. Okay, good, I don’t do one-night stands either, but what kind of time frame are we talking?”
“Do we need to define one?”
“Neither one of us are exactly known for long-term relationships.”
“Then putting a time frame around it isn’t going to make a hell of a lot of difference, is it?”
“True. Okay, what are the rules?”
“I’m not trying to sound like a broken record, but I want you to be certain this is something you want first.”
“Don’t I have to know your terms before I can decide that?”
He was quiet and then answered. “Yes, I suppose.”
“I’m not signing a document with the rules, right?”
“No. Not at all. We’re both smart and capable adults, and we’ve known one another too long to start talking contracts.”
“Okay. Tell me the first one.”
“Rule number one is that if we are angry with each other, we fuck before we fight.”
I couldn’t help my intake of breath.
“Are you there?” he asked.
“I’m processing.”
“You’re scared.”
“I’m not scared of anything.” That wasn’t true, but I definitely wasn’t letting him know it. “For your information, the last thing a woman wants to do when she’s pissed off with a man is to have sex with him.”
“That’s because you associate it with making love. A woman doesn’t want to show love and affection when she’s mad. This is angry sex, honey. Imagine putting all that irritation and frustration into a sexual act. I promise an orgasm will do more for your body than an argument ever could.”
“You’ve had a lot of angry sex, I take it?”
“There’s no other woman who pushes my buttons the way you do, so the answer would be no, but I’m kind of looking forward to it.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay, what’s next?” My voice betrayed that I was not yet recovered from rule number one.
“That’s it for today. Why don’t you think about it, and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“You’re teasing me with only one? I want to know all of them.”
“I think you need to learn some patience. We have plenty of time to talk about them over the next few days.”
“You’re kind of annoying me with the whole patience thing.”
“Come on, you didn’t honestly believe we’d go a day without irritating one another somehow, did you?”
“I foresee a lot of rule number one being evoked.” I had the pleasure of hearing his intake of breath and saying good bye on that note.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next day on Christmas morning, I slept in which is something I rarely did anymore. The smell of cinnamon rolls baking came from downstairs. It was heavenly, but also convinced me to get up and go running. I loathed exercise, but I hated gaining weight more. I was naturally curvy with a larger butt and hips than I would have liked, but I’d made peace with my curves years ago and had learned to dress to flatter them. They might not be my favorite assets, but considering I’d been blessed with full lips and good skin—well, no one could have it all. I did a leisurely four-mile run and was greeted by my mother at the back door.
“Sasha Jayne, it’s cold outside. Go on up and take a nice hot shower. I have cinnamon rolls. And Merry Christmas darlin’.”
I didn’t bother to point out the rolls were the very reason I’d gone running but gave her a quick kiss on the cheek instead. “Merry Christmas, Mama. I’ll be down in a bit.” Somehow I doubted I’d ever outgrow my mother fussing over me.
Upstairs and logging into my laptop, I perused my work email quickly and was thankful that all of my clients were also enjoying the holidays. Taking some more time on the Internet, I started searching terms like “dominant sex” and “submissive roles.” Slightly sick to my stomach, I ended my google search. The rules Brian had mentioned suddenly became a lot more important to learn more about. He’d said he didn’t want to overwhelm me, which made me wonder what else he had in mind. Clearly, we needed to have to have a serious talk about what I would and would not do.
I dressed casually in jeans, a sweater, and my Ugg boots and made my way downstairs. “All right, Mama, what can I help with?”
She put me to work setting the table which was something that had been ingrained since I was young. If ever I needed to showcase a talent, setting a proper table would be mine.
***
I enjoyed the peace and quiet, hanging with my parents until two o’clock when all hell broke loose in the form of three kids and one baby girl. The kids ran around while the baby was thrust on me like I had to hold my niece in order to prove my love for her. Babies made me nervous. I did much better with my older nieces and nephews who weren’t so breakable. My sister, Addison, ignored any look of discomfort I exhibited and went about her business.
My little sister looked like my mother with her fair skin and blonde hair, but she had our father’s striking blue eyes. She’d been the baby that my parents had always wanted and hadn’t been able to conceive during the first eight years of their marriage. I’d long ago accepted after years of therapy that my parents loved me the same as they did their biological daughter.
“So tomorrow night, Sasha, we’re heading to Ernie’s Oyster Bar, and Eric Peterson said he might stop by. You know he and Tami got divorced a couple of years ago. And Leslie Hanson says he looks handsome, still has his hair and everything, which is saying a lot for a man your age.” Addison announced out of the blue.
Ah, it wouldn’t be a night at home without my baby sister rubbing in the fact that she was four years younger and also trying to set me up with someone while I was in town. Tonight’s lucky winner was my former high school boyfriend. “Yes, having hair is definitely at the top of the list when it comes to qualities in a man.”
Her husband, Ryan, chuckled at my sarcasm. He and Addison had met their freshman year of college and had been together ever since. It was the modern day cheerleader-meets-quarterback love story. He managed his father’s profitable real estate business, and my sister was a stay-at-home mom with the four children. The thing I liked most about my brother-in-law was that he might love my sister, but he also didn’t put up with her crap and would call her out when necessary.
“Eric also manages a car dealership in Raleigh, and he’s only got the one son,” Addison added.
“And therein lies the trifecta: hair, job, and only one kid. Look, Addison, I’m not interested.”
“Excuse me if I only want to see you happy with someone.”
Seriously? She thought being with someone automatically meant happiness. I sighed, gladly getting up to help my mom with the dishes and avoid any more talk of being set up.
We finished in the kitchen and set about opening gifts. I knew my parents would be hesitant about the one I’d gotten them, but considering they’d yet to visit me in New York, I was hoping to persuade them to accept it.
“Oh, Sasha, hotel and a show and airline tickets. It’s too much,” my mom admonished.
I shrugged. “I used points for the hotel and airfare, and I want you to see where I’m living. Pick a weekend, and I’ll get the show tickets and tour you around.”
My dad looked uncertain, and then Addison jumped in. “The kids have a lot of
sports and activities on the weekends. It’s going to be tough for them to get away.”
I swallowed hard and took another sip of my wine. “Even more reason to take a few days for themselves for a change, isn’t it?” Yes, I was aware that my parents were heavily involved in my sister’s life and spent a lot of time babysitting and attending their grandkids’ events on a daily basis. But did I need to have kids in order for them to want to be a part of my life?
My mom chose to ignore our passive-aggressive sniping. “Well, we will look at dates and let you know. I’ve always wanted to see the Big Apple. Your father went years ago for some kind of training for work, but I’ve never been. And we want to see where you’re living.”
I smiled, appreciating the fact that they’d make the effort.
My sister’s usual gift included this year’s family picture of all of them dressed alike and looking perfect.
My five-year-old niece squealed at her princess dress-up set. I got some satisfaction as an aunt who’d selected the best gift when she insisted on putting on the dresses, shoes, and tiaras before continuing on with opening up her other presents.
“Did you not get the wish list of learning toys this year?” Addison inquired.
“I did. I simply chose not to be boring and instead get something I knew she’d want. Who’d like more wine?”
***
By the time I fell into bed, I was halfway buzzed and way too wound up to sleep. Grabbing my phone, I looked at the time. Only ten o’clock.
I texted Brian, suddenly anxious to hear his voice.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“Are you free to talk?”
“For you, anytime.”
My phone rang two seconds later, and I answered on the first ring. “Hi,” I said, a little out of breath.
“Hi, back. How was your Christmas Day?”
I filled him in on the details, and he offered up some of his. Then there was an awkward silence.
“I’d like to know rule number two,” I pressed.
Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2) Page 5
