“It’s a little overwhelming. I knew about KD but not about any of the others.” I let my attention drift to the patrons in the room and the pieces they stood around. “I’ve tried to talk but not hover. I’m not sure I could answer questions about inspiration, symbolism, or anything else right now. Mingling away from the art is much safer.” I laughed nervously.
There was something in her eyes, lurking. She let my insecurity go as quickly as I let hers slip away. Now wasn’t the time or place to dive into Sera’s demons and secrets, regardless of how close to the surface they appeared to be.
Tara attempted to get me to make the decisions on sales, but I refused.
“That’s your job, sweetheart. I just put the paint on the canvas.” I stopped myself before I swatted her ass. It was so tempting, even though it was also incredibly uncharacteristic of me. I was on a high, while Tara was on edge.
As the gallery owner, she wanted to please everyone, but she wasn’t prepared for an auction.
“I don’t want you to think I’m doing it to make more money for the gallery, Bastian. But what I do want to happen is to create a stir and get people excited about you again. You have the potential to clear more tonight than most people do in a year, and then have people waiting in line for more to come out of your studio.”
There wasn’t a piece of me that believed Tara would exploit me for money. It just wasn’t who she was or what she did. Not only would it ruin the artists’ reputations but hers as well.
“Do what you do, Tara. I trust you. You didn’t question what I was bringing you. You never even asked how many pieces I could produce. You trusted me. I trust you to do what’s in my best interest. If you profit from it, even better.” That was how this worked. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to make a dime had Tara not taken a chance.
“Yes, sir.”
The decision to auction was made because the buzz was spreading around the room as anxious patrons got their cards. Technically, I probably should have stuck around, but I couldn’t bring myself to see people put a dollar figure on my work, especially KD. I’d never been able to. Every opening I’d ever had, I’d left before the end to avoid this. It was as if I were selling my soul.
I’d gone in search of Nate to take me home when Sera stopped me.
Her delicate fingers landed on my forearm, warmth spreading from them to me with just the brush of her skin. “Aren’t you going to watch?”
“Not if I can avoid it, but I can’t find Nate. Have you seen him? I rode here with him.”
“Another hot date, huh?” She thought that was cute, but if she had any idea how many people had believed it was true, she might not joke about it.
I’d started to get anxious, knowing the bidding would start soon. “Not funny. Seriously, any clue where he is?” My heart raced, and my chest started to heave.
A sympathetic grin lifted her lips enough for me to know that whatever Sera was about to say wouldn’t make me happy. “Don’t be mad, but he left with some girl about an hour ago.”
“Of course, he did.” I couldn’t blame the guy, but it didn’t make me happy either. “Fuck.”
Sera motioned toward the door with the tilt of her head. “Come on, Bastian. Let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah?”
She held out her hand. Fire licked at my skin the moment our hands connected, searing my soul. I hadn’t touched another woman in so long, I’d forgotten that electric tingle, the special spark, the chemistry, connection.
Outside, the night had turned cool. Pulling the long scarf from Sera’s arm in an attempt to keep her from catching a chill, the evidence was uncovered. Fresh marks that I’d bet Nate’s life Sera didn’t get in the studio or from a fucking kiln. The outline of fingerprints marred her skin in a melancholy arrangement of colors.
I grabbed her wrist to get a closer look, and she flinched. “Sera?”
“Let’s not do this on the sidewalk,” Sera whispered while searching for onlookers around us.
I hesitated, not wanting to allow anything else to happen to her. If I didn’t know what was going on, I couldn’t keep her safe.
“Please, Bastian.” Her plea sent a fissure of pain radiating through my chest.
I begrudgingly agreed to drop it for now, but I wasn’t letting it go. I had conceded to her silence the day we’d gone to Rulatta’s. I refused to give in so easily this time.
I followed her lead to the parking lot with her good arm tucked protectively into mine. There she handed me the keys to her car, and I drove us back to my house.
I had coffee, and we could sit for hours and talk privately. I was unwilling to give Sera an excuse not to open up by taking her somewhere public. I didn’t want our conversation to be overheard, and I was quite certain she didn’t, either.
Sera pulled at her interlaced fingers as she mentally prepared herself to release whatever secrets she held. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took to calm her fears. I could only imagine how she tried to align what she wanted to say with what she needed to, or maybe even just how to go about putting it into words.
I’d given her some space since we came in, but now that I sat next to her at the table, a full spread of coffee at her fingertips, there was no reason to leave this spot anytime soon. I’d hunkered down for the long haul, which was probably good. Something told me this wasn’t going to be a quick conversation.
“It’s not what you think, Bastian.” Sera seemed to have rehearsed that line over and over and was well-versed in its repetition.
I didn’t want to push, but she hadn’t really left me any other option. I cared about her, and I was worried about the things I saw that she tried to hide. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” I sipped at my coffee, trying to keep this casual. I wanted her to drop her guard, not build her defenses. “What you haven’t mentioned is where the bruises are coming from or why you need to cover them up and lie about it.” That came out a little harsher than it had in my mind.
“Don’t judge something you don’t understand.” Sera’s eyes narrowed just a hint as she cupped her mug in both hands.
“I’m not judging. I’m waiting for your explanation.”
She took a deep breath, and I tried not to stare at her chest when she did. “Okay.” Then she met my eyes and held them as she asked, “Do you know anything about alternative lifestyles?”
“Alternative like what?” All I could think about were the kids dressed in black in high school. “Goth?”
She shook her head yet didn’t give me anything more to go on.
“Then I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Her tongue snaked out, drawing her lip between her teeth. She chewed on it for a moment and then released it. “Swingers, BDSM, polyamory, things like that.” Sera dropped her gaze back to her cup, and her hesitation to meet my eyes told me she was one or all of those things.
“No, I don’t know anything about anything other than monogamy.” That might have come off a little self-righteous, although I hadn’t intended it that way.
“Don’t think you’re better than I am because I don’t do things the way you do, Bastian.” Apparently, it had rubbed her the wrong way.
“I’m sorry.” I held up my hands in apologetic surrender and softened my voice. “You’re right; that was unfair. Let me try again. No, I don’t know anything about those types of lifestyles. Do you?” Attempting to change my tone to invite her to open up was more difficult than I’d anticipated. Now I sounded condescending, for fuck’s sake. This would get me nowhere.
Sighing, likely at my ignorance, she moved forward anyhow. “I’ve never found fulfillment in traditional relationships, Bastian. I tried dating men, but there was always something lacking. I was continuously searching for something that was never going to be found inside a normal relationship dynamic, but I couldn’t identify what it was I needed. Early in college, I dated this guy, Jimmy, who was heavily involved in the swingers’ lifestyle. I knew nothing about it other than I t
hought it was a bunch of people having orgies. I was so very wrong.”
Sera had my attention with the word orgies. I could admit that my thought process would have followed her natural inclination as well, but I tried to open my mind to a different possibility to see where Sera was coming from.
“I made some amazing friends, whom I happened to fuck along the way.” That was another practiced line, although I wasn’t certain if she said it to break the ice and get a reaction or if it was just to get it out in the open to focus on the actual details that followed.
“The great thing was, Jimmy was completely open to my being with other men as long as he was aware and present. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother me for him to engage in sexual acts with other women, either. At the end of the day, we were still a couple, and those people didn’t go home with us. Sometimes we invited other people into our bedroom, sometimes we went to theirs, and occasionally, there was a party, but for the most part, we hung out with other couples, and the sex was truly secondary to the relationships.”
Sera stared at me, waiting for a reaction, but I didn’t have one to offer. So, I kept my mouth shut and waited for her to continue. Thus far, nothing she’d said resulted in bruises or lies; in fact, it was quite the opposite.
“That experience didn’t define what I needed, but it did spell out pretty clearly that missionary sexual experiences were never going to be enough. It also let me in on a huge secret I wasn’t aware of: I don’t believe people were designed to love just one person.”
I had tried to be patient, but I felt like Sera was leading me down a primrose path that wouldn’t bear any fruit, just a convoluted tale that left me scratching my head. “I’m not following how this leads to answers to my questions, Sera. I’m not trying to rush your story. I just want to make sure we’re on the same path here.”
“I’m getting there, I promise.” She tucked a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear. “After Jimmy and I called it quits, I remained friends with several of the people we’d met. One of them was a guy named Mark. Mark and his girlfriend broke up close to the same time Jimmy and I did. We were kindred spirits. Mark began to open up to me about the way he lived, which was much greater than just swinging.”
I hated to admit it, but I could feel the meat of the story forming in her interaction with Mark, and part of me was jealous of both him and Jimmy.
“Mark took me to a club with him. The first time, we just went to observe intending to go back another day to play. Of course, I had no clue what any of that meant—” she wasn’t the only one—“until we walked through the door and I actually saw what type of club he’d taken me to see. At that point in my life, I’d never even heard of the things taking place inside those walls—I was clueless as to what I had agreed to.” She shook her head, and a little smile formed at the corners of her mouth. Sera appeared to have enjoyed that memory with fondness, or maybe it was the naïvete she found amusing.
“Anyway, as we observed that night, I found myself drawn to the men and women serving, submitting, meeting the needs of others while having their needs conversely met.”
I watched Sera’s expressions with rapt attention as she described her sexual exploration over the years, never divulging the details of her escapades, only that she most definitely explored—she was the Christopher Columbus of sexual prowess. Her eyes became animated when she spoke of the club scene.
I had countless questions, but she’d come alive in front of me, and I didn’t want to disrupt that excitement by interrupting her. So, I kept quiet.
“After we left that night, Mark began explaining the sub-culture to me. He was very much a Dominant, and he believed I was naturally submissive. He hit the nail on the head. The more I began to explore the lifestyle, the more I felt I’d found the place that I fit.
“I was no longer a square peg forced into a round hole. There were square pegs everywhere, and I’d even found square holes. After that night, Mark began to push my boundaries, taking me safely past traditional gender roles and sexual positions into a world that many think of as taboo. I’ve experienced bondage, masochism, kink, fetish, but honestly, what drew me to the group more than anything was the freedom to explore who I was. They welcomed me without judgment, even as I evolved, trying to learn who I was and what I needed. The core definition of the lifestyle is one that welcomes my diversity, embraces my uncertainty, educates me, exposes me to different things…it was a feeling of family, of love I’d never experienced.”
I wasn’t connecting the dots, and Sera recognized that she’d lost me, that my feeble mind wasn’t grasping how the pieces worked themselves together.
Exasperated, she sighed. “Bastian, I’m a submissive. I am in a Dom/sub relationship—an open one—but a relationship just the same, and I have been for years. The bruises you’ve seen are from scenes I’ve played in, not abuse.”
“What?” My mind was so far beyond blown that it was just mush. “What does that even mean?”
“My Dom is a sadist. He gets off on administering pain. I enjoy it, although it’s not one of my kinks. The day you saw me at my studio, it had gotten out of hand, and today, he grabbed my arm to keep me from falling when I wasn’t secured properly while suspended.”
“A sadist? You let someone beat you?” I did my best to keep my anger tamped, but I couldn’t fathom what the hell she thought she was doing. Consensual abuse was still abuse. I tried to rationalize that I might not understand what she tried to convey, but there was no scenario in my meager mind that made this acceptable behavior.
“Not exactly, Bastian. Look, if you can’t keep an open mind, then we need to stop the discussion here. I’m not asking for your approval, but as my friend, I am asking for your acceptance. This is the lifestyle I choose to live in. I need to serve; I crave submission. There are times I crave punishment. We discuss everything we do prior, and I know to an extent what to expect, but I have the final say. I control the situation.”
That was the dumbest thing I’d ever heard and nothing more than an excuse in my book. “How are you controlling a situation when you’re covered in bruises?”
“Most of the time, I can hide the bruises, typically on my butt, my breasts, my legs, some other intimate areas. I don’t like having marks for the world to see. People assume what you do—that I’m abused. I’m not. I enjoy the marks and intimacy.”
I needed a better understanding, but rage bubbled just below the surface. “So, you’re telling me when it looked like you were hit upside the face with a two-by-four, that was consensual?”
“No, that was an accident. They happen. You can’t push the limits of the body and not have an occasional mishap.”
“Is that what he tells you?” My blood boiled at the thought of this beautiful woman believing she needed to allow a man to strike her to gain some sort of sexual satisfaction personally.
“Bastian, this is a personal preference. I would never tell you what position to have sex in or what you should be doing with your partner. Why would you think it’s acceptable for you to criticize my choices? I’m not asking you to participate.”
That last part broke a piece of me I didn’t realize I held on to: my opposition was rooted in the knowledge that I was not part of this lifestyle. There was no acceptance because there was no understanding.
“Look, Bastian. This is who I am. I could never return to a vanilla relationship. I need to be dominated as much as I need to submit.”
“Who is it?”
“Who is what?”
“Your boyfriend. What’s his name?”
“He’s not my boyfriend; he’s my Dom. For some, those two words are synonymous, but for me, they’re mutually exclusive, at least at this point in time and in this particular relationship.”
It all sounded like hocus-pocus bullshit in my book, and I wanted to shake her to make her see that some sick fuck had lied to her. “What does that even mean?”
“Exactly what you think it does. I answer to hi
m, but we’re not in love with each other. Who he is, is not important.”
If she weren’t hiding anything, then his name wouldn’t be an issue. “You won’t tell me his name?”
“No. He’s in a position in the community that could be affected by public knowledge of what goes on behind closed doors. So, no, we do not openly claim each other or the lifestyle. Those we play with are often in similar situations. You’d never know any of us don’t do the nine-to-five thing and go home to the missionary position. It has to be that way to avoid ridicule.” That appeared to sadden her.
I mulled over what she’d just said. She was right. I’d known for less than an hour, consider her a close friend, and I judged her immediately. Hell, I was still fucking judging this shit. Everything about it was insane. There was nothing I could ever understand about a woman allowing a man to strike her—for any reason. I’d heard of a little slap and tickle in the bedroom, but never any that left bruises or marks afterward.
“I’m trying really hard to wrap my mind around this, Sera. I really do want to understand. I’m stuck on the black-and-blue face, the obvious fingerprints on your arm, not to mention all of the things I can’t see.”
“You don’t have to understand it, Bastian, but you might find release in it yourself.” She leaned back in the chair, taking her coffee with her. It was the most relaxed she’d been all night. “I would strongly recommend you read up on it—and I don’t mean in romance novels. Seriously study it, Google it, and find some reputable sites. Learn what you can about true dominance and submission before passing judgment.”
“I could never hit a woman, Sera.”
“There are lots of people in the lifestyle who aren’t into sadism or masochism, silly. And it’s possible you might have a submissive side.”
Reality's Illusion Page 9
