by Roxy Harte
My mind was completely in the gutter. I imagined myself as one of his nude models, just me and him and a few dozen onlookers. I imagined myself screaming in orgasm.
I have lost my mind.
Maybe I had, because the peace that descended on my brain in the desert returned tenfold. I could hear the seconds ticking by on a clock a room away. It matched my heartbeat, and Shiro’s breath. If there were others still in the room, they faded into the walls, no longer a distraction.
I felt my feet leave the ground as he pulled me into an arching backbend. I was flying—several feet off the ground at any rate—feet and head high, my belly sagging. He tied my ponytail into the configuration of knots so that my face couldn’t drop forward even if I wanted to hide. Maybe that was the idea. My back felt the first twinge of ache, as did my shoulders, elbows, and ankles. I might have been a flexible pretzel girl, but this was a new sensation, and my body wasn’t 100 percent sure it was happy about it. My muscles burned, a screaming heat, but when he asked me if the position felt okay, I answered, “Yes.”
Do I feel okay?
How long could I comfortably stay this way? I didn’t know. I wasn’t so sure I was comfortable then, but I wasn’t complaining. It was no worse than hundreds of push-ups.
I should be at karate.
I felt horrible knowing my father was watching the clock, counting down the minutes until I was late, counting down the minutes until I was so unacceptably late I was no longer welcome under his roof.
Funny, before the weekend of enlightenment—that’s how I’d come to look at my moment in the desert—I’d thought of the house I’d grown up in as my home, but now I see it was always his house, his rules, and though I’d always jokingly acknowledged both, I never really felt like I didn’t have a home. I felt that now. A home should be a sanctuary away from the people who make you feel like crap during your day, away from all the demands and judgments.
I felt sorry for my dad, not guilty.
I knew if he had his way, I would be so guilt- and remorse-filled I would be racing home this instant to beg forgiveness. I’d been conditioned to only be happy if he was happy. He’d always wrapped his love for me in conditions, bound to traditions and rules that weren’t even based on his own legacy, but forged in the philosophy of others whom he hoped to emulate. I wondered if he was still trying to win Rumiko’s love, thinking if he could just be Japanese enough? Or whether that was just my own imagination, filling in the gaps about that which I knew little.
Or was he just a bully, using words like tradition and honor and commitment as excuses.
The clock ticked with my heartbeat, until my heartbeat started moving faster than the clock. What was I thinking? If I didn’t go to karate, I couldn’t go home tonight. Where in the hell am I going to go if I don’t go home? I feel like I am going to hyperventilate. Ohgodohgodohgod!
“Breathe!” Shiro commanded. I thought I was.
He spun me in a circle so that I was facing away from the crowd, looking solely at him. He was still the same. Patient. Kind. Happy.
I want to be happy.
“Allow yourself to be happy,” he said, and I thought, did I say that out loud?
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said in a whispered rush. “I can’t go home.”
“Sure you can. This session won’t last past your bedtime.”
“No, when I left, he said not to come back. Where will I sleep tonight?”
Shiro didn’t ask for details; he only asked, “Where do you want to sleep?”
I knew his voice was hushed, but I wondered if the old couple in the front row could hear everything.
“I’d like to sleep with you tonight.”
He cradled my face in his hands and kissed me. “Then you sleep with me tonight. Fill your heart with joy, little bird, and fly free.”
Little bird? Oh hell, he’s killing me with the pet names. At least he didn’t call me grasshopper…
He walked away from me and started addressing the class. Instructing. I didn’t pay attention. I was too lost in my own thoughts.
“You’ll want to check your model’s circulation often. Make sure she’s comfortable. Make sure she knows that if she experiences any unusual pain to tell you. And above all, recognize the signs of distress. Who can tell me the piece of equipment you always have on hand?”
A student answered, “Rope.”
“Such a wise guy.”
Another student answered, “Safety shears,” and Shiro pulled his out of a back pocket, demonstrating this was the correct answer, but none of what he was saying really registered.
“Sleep with me tonight.” He’d said that. “Fill your heart with joy.”
Eventually he lowered me, but my feet never really touched the ground. He was still talking, instructing on how to flawlessly transition the model into different types of suspension without untying a single knot. He explained that the first pose was a very dramatic binding only suitable for the very flexible. The crowd tittered, and someone shouted out, “And for the very young.”
He bantered back and forth before changing the ropes enough to lift me horizontally so I was stretched out as if lying in a bed. I could almost relax, but not really with the ropes compressing my ribs. It took some real mental focus to separate myself from the discomfort.
Suddenly my head started to drop, and I ended up hanging completely upside down. I liked this position even less and wished he would take me back to the one where I was at least relaxed if not 100 percent comfortable. I looked out at the crowd and got dizzy from trying to distinguish right side up. Shiro squatted beside me. “You okay?”
“Peachy,” I said through gritted teeth.
“No. You aren’t comfortable. Always tell me the truth when I’m doing a new position. I won’t know if you don’t talk to me. Didn’t you hear what I said to the class?”
I started to argue; there is a lot of discomfort in karate, and I’m tough. I thought I could take anything he could dish out. It seemed he was reading my mind again, because he said, “This isn’t the dojo. If it hurts, tell me. If you aren’t comfortable, tell me.”
“Headache and dizzy,” I admitted.
“Good. Thank you for being honest.” He kissed me before standing. As he changed my position, he used the instance to teach the class about communication and expectations.
My only focus was the rope as it moved and slid over the unitard. I wished again that it was my bare skin. I ached to feel the rope biting into my flesh. It was still good, but the roughness against my wrists and ankles wasn’t enough. I felt the tightness of the rope over the skin, but I imagined more. And I wanted that.
I must have zoned out again, like in the desert, because suddenly, I realized he was lowering me. His students were milling around the room, looking at albums and individual framed photos and paintings lined up on a table that I hadn’t noticed before class. Shiro started untying me. “You survived your first suspension. How do you feel?”
I met his gaze and smiled. “Free.”
I was free. And filled with joy. I realized it had nothing to do with the fact I was welcome to sleep with Shiro tonight. It wouldn’t matter if he’d said, “Get a hotel room,” or “Stay with a friend.” What mattered was that I had a choice, because I made a choice. I was suddenly free to act on the desires of my heart. Holy shit! I am free!
Granted, sleeping with him tonight will be better than a hotel or a friend’s couch, but where I would be sleeping had nothing to do with a sudden surge of giddiness. I floated on a cloud of happiness as he introduced me to his students one by one, like I would have a reason to know their names in the future. The little white-haired lady asked, “So we’ll be seeing more of Stephanie?”
Shiro looked at me and grinned, blushing, and I realized I’d never seen him blush. “I hope we haven’t terrified her too much and that you will be seeing a lot more of her actually.”
I smiled and bowed a small, respectful bow. “I’m not easy to scare off
.”
The little old lady tottered back to her husband, looking none too stable on her feet. I had to ask. “Is she planning to be tied up?”
“Desire doesn’t fade as one ages. We just have to be careful of her circulation.”
My mouth rounded in a soundless, “Oh.” I hardly knew how to respond to that.
Chapter Eight
Shiro Miura kept a very tidy apartment. I’m not sure why, but I wasn’t really surprised by that fact…or that he kept a shoe caddy by the front door for leaving shoes in before walking on the main floors. He led me to a sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
He complied immediately, returning with two glasses of iced water. He handed me one before he sat down. He noticed I was shaking when I accepted the glass, and stated the obvious. “You’re nervous.”
I shrugged. “I think it’s just leftover adrenaline from being suspended for the first time. Tonight was a lot to take in.”
I took a sip of the water, then set the glass on the coffee table. I rubbed my wrists, admiring the marks left by the rope.
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s starting to sink in that you aren’t going home to the familiar tonight.”
I bent and inspected my ankles, which were similarly crisscrossed with the pattern of the braided rope. “There was nothing familiar about my evening.”
He rubbed my back. “And that was good.”
“Amazing.” I sighed. “He hasn’t even texted.”
“You expected him to?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“He’s not a horrible father.” I sat back up. “He does love me.”
Shiro squeezed my thigh. “You don’t have to convince me. I know your father loves you very much.”
“You do?”
He pulled me into a small hug. “It’s very obvious. If it will make you feel better, text him.”
“I already did. I told him I was staying with a friend tonight. He hasn’t texted back yet.” I couldn’t hide the sadness from my voice, so I didn’t try.
He bumped my shoulder. “Does the friend get benefits?”
I smirked. “Of course.”
His face turned serious. “What did you think about tonight? About helping me with the class? Think you might want to help me again?”
I tried to keep the order of the questions straight in my head as I answered, “I loved tonight. I like being tied in your rope. Helping you with the class was fun although I still can’t believe it wasn’t sexual at all, and I will help you with the class anytime you want.”
“Well, I was looking at hiring a full-time assistant, if you’re interested?”
I laughed. “I was willing to do it for free, but if you’re paying…hell yeah.”
“You seem a little disappointed that the session wasn’t sexual at all.” He took my water glass from me and set it on the coffee table before taking my hands in his. He lifted each, one at a time to his lips, and kissed my knuckles.
“Maybe a little. I’d like to know what it would feel like to be tied up like that and have it be purely about the sex.”
“Oh really?”
“Oh definitely.”
“I think you have a very naughty side for someone who isn’t into kink at all.”
I chuckled.
“I’m very glad you’re here tonight.” He leaned in to kiss me, and I realized I was very happy too. I wasn’t happy about the circumstances that had made it possible, but I was glad for the opportunity to stay the night with him.
“I have rope here, if you aren’t too sore from the suspension.”
“I’m a little tight but maybe just a little rope.”
He winked. “Just a little rope.”
Taking my hand, he led me down a hallway, I assumed toward the bedroom.
“Did you bring your vibrator?”
“I don’t leave home without it.”
“That’s my girl.” He pushed me into his bedroom, which was very neat, very simple, very masculine with a suspension hook in one corner and a stripper pole on a raised platform in another corner. I looked from the pole to him. “You have a stripper pole?”
“This is Vegas. I thought all of the apartments came with practice poles,” he joked.
“I don’t think so.”
“You dance?”
I shimmied a little, saying, “Maybe I’ll show you what I can do sometime,” before grabbing my back.
“But not tonight.” He pushed me toward the bed. “Tonight you get a deep tissue massage for being such a supersweet assistant.” He kissed me as I dropped onto my stomach, thinking if he massaged as well as he kissed, I was in a world of danger.
Shiro pulled my tank over my head and unhooked my bra. I lay blissfully on his bed, just thankful to be horizontal. Behind me I heard him rummaging for something, so I wasn’t too surprised when I felt the drizzle of a cool liquid between my shoulder blades. “You have massage oil?”
“I am a man prepared for anything.”
I tried not to imagine him preparing this same scene for other women. Is this going to be a problem? I pushed the jealousy aside. I’m not going to let this be a problem. He’s experienced. So what? Right now, he’s with me.
He pushed deep into my muscles, shredding the knotted rope of muscles making my back scream. “Are you always this tense?”
“This isn’t tense. This is tired. You should see me tense.”
“I don’t think I want to. Try to relax.”
Relaxing wasn’t hard under his expert hands. Holy crap, I’m in trouble. I could feel my muscles melting for him and felt like a loose bowl of gelatin when he was finished. I really didn’t want him to stop when he stopped, but he rolled me over anyway, sliding my bra completely off as I rolled. My nipples instantly pebbled, exposed to the cooler temperature of the room. I wondered if he noticed.
“Better?”
“Oh God.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Too tired for more?”
“Never.”
He started unbuttoning and unzipping my jeans before I even finished the sentence. He slid my clothes off and crawled between my knees. He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing that amazing six-pack of abs.
“I’ll never get tired of seeing you do that.”
“Taking off my shirt?”
“Oh, you do so much more than take off your shirt.” My pussy clenched in agreement. Wow.
Shiro bent over me. “Oh yeah?” He kissed my shoulder, my collarbone. He kissed his way down my stomach. He hovered over my clit, pushing my knees up. “Want this?”
Biting my lip, I nodded.
He lowered his mouth and sucked my clit. He rolled it with his tongue, licked it, pulled on it. He made me insane. My hips started to rock. He lifted my thighs higher onto his shoulders, and I wrapped my legs in place as he licked and sucked. He added his fingers, one at a time, thrusting, until I was moaning.
He licked lower, licking my labia as his fingers slid in and out.
I was mindless with need. “Fuck me, Shiro.”
“Not yet.”
“I won’t come this way.”
“You haven’t come this way yet. It doesn’t mean you can’t. I’m patient.” His mouth went back to work, and I knew I would die from the pleasure of what he was doing to me. I wouldn’t come, but I would die.
He licked and thrust. He licked lower, lifting my hips and thighs higher.
Whoa. What? He was licking my asshole. I didn’t know what to think about that. Or what to feel. Holy hell, it felt good. I think my eyes rolled back into my head it felt so good. He was licking and fingering. I knew the second just before he slid his finger deep into my anus that it was going to happen. I thought I was ready for it. I started bucking in orgasm. And then his mouth closed over my clit. The orgasm intensified, and I was suddenly flying. I felt like I could look down on my body. That I was separate from it.
I think I really did die in that moment.
* * * *
&nbs
p; I woke up knowing I had to face my father. The sun was bright and high in the sky. I knew it had to be at least eight or nine, and couldn’t remember a time in my life when I’d slept through dawn. I hadn’t set the alarm for four thirty. I’d forgotten. And my father hadn’t even called.
I picked up my phone and looked at the face, not believing he hadn’t texted or called. I’m not sure why I was surprised. I knew our relationship was based on his saying, “Jump,” and my asking, “How high?” but I thought there was more. I thought there was love, caring, some form of compassion that would compel him to call and ask if I was okay. I was wrong.
“You’re thinking very hard for so early in the morning.”
“Early? It’s late. Very late. I should have been up hours ago.” I rolled over to face Shiro, surprised to find he was still in bed too.
He caressed my cheek. “It’s nice waking up beside you.”
I smirked. “I bet you say that to all the girls you tie up and bring home.”
“I admit to bringing women here, playing a little, having sex. They don’t spend the night.”
“Ever?”
“Never. Ever,” he assured me. “You are the first woman who has ever slept over.”
Wow. A man full of surprises.
“You’re worried about your father?”
I shrugged. “Maybe there’s something wrong. He didn’t even call.”
“We can go check on him if you like. I could wait in the Jeep. You could pack a bag with your clothes and toiletries. Your stuff.”
“And then what? I don’t make enough at the diner even with tips to pay rent on my own place.”
He looked at me questioningly. “I was hoping you would move in with me for a while. Actually, for as long as you want. For as long as it is a good and happy thing for you to be with me.”
“I never even considered…” Really? Wow. This is sudden. “I don’t want to take advantage of your gentle heart, Shiro, even though nothing would make me happier.”
He kissed me silent. “You just said the magic words, baby. Nothing would make you happier; nothing would make me happier. It’s settled. I want you to move in with me.”
“What about karate classes?”
