It’s Sunday, which means I’ll be at Mum and Dad’s for dinner tonight. I save the Sunday roast for them. Now that Izzy is happy, she doesn’t feature in our weekly family tradition as frequently. James, my brother, moved away for university over ten years ago, and he’s only an occasional visitor for holidays and the odd weekend. With Christmas fast approaching, I’m sure he’ll visit.
After the usual yummy food, light conversation and a little bit of TV shared with Mum and Dad, I return home and fire up my laptop to review and check my emails. I have a busy week ahead with several meetings near home and a regional managers meeting in Birmingham on Tuesday. I’m quickly sucked into the work, finding the familiarity and the routine comforting.
A couple of hours later, I give in and go to bed. I put my phone on the side table and pick up the note Luc left there this morning. I’d done a good job of avoiding the temptation to call him. With some time and space, I found it easier not to throw myself at him. My appointment with Dr. Cross is tomorrow. I want to discuss my feelings of vulnerability after last night. I’ll call him after I speak to Dr. Cross. Content with my decision to call Luc tomorrow, I set my alarm and go to sleep.
After the last two times I’d seen Luc, I’d forgotten The Clark Practice was his, and that I might run into him here. I perch on the edge of the seat in the waiting area and scan the reception. Half of me wants to see him, while the other half hasn’t figured out what I’d likely say.
“Jess, are you ready?”
“Yes, thanks.” I start and jump to follow Dr. Cross back into her office. Safely inside her room, I settle and take a seat on the sofa.
“How are you feeling?” Her honest concern is a comfort.
“So so. I’ve had a lot to take in over the last couple of days. Our sessions and some of the things we spoke about seem to have snowballed.”
“That’s very natural. Please don’t worry about that. Is there something specific you’d like to cover today?”
“Well, it appears not wanting to commit myself in a relationship has probably stemmed from my lack of trust.” She smiles, as if I’ve answered a really hard question correctly. “It’s not as if I don’t trust people in general. I do. Just not the men I date.”
“I think your lack or commitment and trust issues are linked. Especially given your past history. You’ve conditioned yourself to associate love with heartbreak. That will take some time and work to undo. Do you want to work on that?”
“Can I work on learning to trust someone first?”
“Of course. Can you give me some examples of when you do trust people?”
“Sure, my parents, Izzy…” I trail off quickly, running through friends from work, acquaintances, and wondering if I would actually trust any of them.
“Okay, what is it that makes you trust Izzy? Just think about her and talk freely.”
I conjure her in my mind and can’t help but smile at all the special times we’ve shared together.
“Well, we’ve known each other for a long time. We’ve been best friends for years. We talk to each other, support each other. She’s been there for me when I’ve needed her to be, and I’m there for her. Especially over the last few years. We’ve gotten back to being really close, which is nice. I can talk to her without her judging me, and she can do the same. We’ve shared some really big parts of our lives with each other.” I try and halt my rambling and focus on something more concrete that would explain why I trust Izzy.
“How do all of those things make you feel?”
“Feel?” I frown, not confident with being able to answer the question.
“Yes, feel.” She smiles.
“Well, good. It makes me feel good. I like that we can share things.” I look up and Amanda nods. “I suppose, knowing she’ll be there for me makes me feel… safe. She’s not going to leave me.”
The word clicks into place, and I know that’s exactly what trust is for me—the ability to feel safe and secure in my relationship.
“So trust for you is when a relationship makes you feel safe. What about the men you’ve dated? Did any of those make you feel safe?” I cast my memory back, struggling to focus past Saturday night with Luc. I trusted him not to hurt me physically, but my lust and desire shorted any other feelings. I wanted him more than I needed to feel safe. I gave into him and nothing bad happened. My lips twitch into a smile when I realise my small achievement.
“I don’t think I gave many of the men in my past the opportunity to. I took the reins and called things how I wanted them to be. There is a new guy who doesn’t let me do that. I trusted him a little bit and nothing bad happened.”
“That’s good. Trust doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a long process that usually builds gradually. The fact that you’re making yourself open to the idea of being vulnerable is a great step forward.”
I bask in the small win for a minute, before the bigger worries close back in. “So how can I learn to trust more? At the moment the worry over the risk seems too great.” I’m edging towards finding out what an adult relationship is like again.
“Jess, you’ve spent a long time refusing to get emotionally close to a man. Allow yourself some time. If you believe you’re ready to try and establish a relationship where you can be open emotionally, then you need to give yourself the time and opportunity to build trust. Your heart isn’t a magic toy that you can switch on and out comes trust. Don’t assume you’ll wake up and feel like you can trust. You’ll have to work at any type of relationship and put yourself in a positon where you can accept and build on your emotional connection. I’d also recommend that whomever this new guy is, you talk to him about how you’re feeling. Make sure he’s aware of what you’re working through. That’s important.”
Okay, nothing scary there then! “Thank you.”
“A pleasure. I’m pleased you’re feeling comfortable to talk openly with me. That’s important, especially if you’ve been storing this up for a while. Do you want to book something for a couple of weeks?”
“Yes please.” We settle on a date and I gather my coat.
“Alright then, I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
I say goodbye, head out into waiting area and make a bee-line for the exit.
It all seemed so simple when I was talking it through. Trust equalled safety. Of course, that was obvious now. And I needed to work on allowing that. I’d proven I was open to the idea with Luc. Now I just needed to take the next step.
Arriving at work late, I head to my office and fire up my laptop. My assistant hurries in after me. “Where have you been?”
“Excuse me, Hannah. Want to re-phrase that?”
“I’m sorry, but the MD arrived here this morning and has pulled all the managers into a meeting. It started half an hour ago.”
“Shit. Okay, I’ll join them and apologise. Anything else I should know?”
“No. Sorry I snapped. Everyone’s talking about it. We never get the MD here.”
“It’s not a big deal, Hannah. Really.”
I grab my iPad and head off to the conference room. I knock and enter and hope there’s a seat I can slip into.
“Arrr, Miss Riley. Good of you to join us,” Martin booms from the head of the table.
“I’m sorry. I had an appointment this morning and wasn’t aware of the meeting.”
“No, you wouldn’t be. I’m glad you’re here though. I’m going to need you to address the regional managers at a meeting tomorrow.” My stomach plummets, and I find my seat quickly. If this was a national issue I needed to address with the managers, it wasn’t going to be good news.
I sit and listen and my mind starts to race a million miles an hour. Efficiency cuts, re-structuring, probable redundancies. Possibly the worst news for anyone in HR. I’m to assist the divisional managers in the restructuring process and then work alongside the finance department to look at where the cuts can be found. This will need to be a strategic approach across all the regions with the final reports due at the
end of January. The board would meet in February with the decision made and implemented for the start of the tax year. As it was close to Christmas, I was going to be spending a lot of time at work over the next few months.
I arrive home from work at around eight. I’d spent the rest of the day in meetings with the department heads, drawing up the approach and actions that would need to be taken before the end of the week and rest of the month.
It seemed Alemno Consulting wasn’t as immune to the financial climate as we had thought. It just hit later than expected. I would have to leave earlier tomorrow than I’d originally planned, as the regional meeting was now going to be a review and policy overview to coordinate all the divisions and areas.
I open the fridge and stare at all of the wholesome ingredients but don’t have the energy to cook anything from scratch. I slam the door and move to the freezer and pull out a ready meal. Tonight, the microwave was a god-send. The whirring buzz fills the kitchen as I make a cup of tea and wait for the ding. Unsatisfying macaroni and cheese is my reward when the microwave finally finishes turning, and I sit down to eat.
Redundancy is a horrible prospect for anyone, and it’s the absolute worst part of my job. Knowing that people’s lives are hanging in the balance churns my stomach and makes me feel sick. I know putting people out of jobs would be the absolute last case scenario, but it’s the realistic outcome given the cuts we’re looking at making.
The macaroni tastes like glue, and I push it away, washing it down with a gulp of tea. If it wasn’t for the early start I’d certainly be having a drink right now. That’s going to have to wait for a few days.
Perched on the bedside table is the journal I’m meant to be writing in. I drum my fingers on the hard-backed book pondering my need to fill up the pages. The concept of spilling my emotional guts was so foreign that I didn’t want to get used to it. I was doing enough of that already with Amanda. I was being frank and although I said I’d conquer this, I don’t belive I’ll ever be comfortable with it.
Tuesday is horrendous. A bleary December day brings drizzle and winds that batter my BMW on the motorway. I spend over two hours fighting the traffic heading into Birmingham. My arrival brings no relief as I am immediately immersed in a painstakingly difficult planning meeting with my counterparts. The day runs well into the evening and ends with another fight through rush hour traffic, delaying my return home. This is what I have to look forward to every Tuesday for the next few months.
Since the news hit at work on Monday I haven’t stopped, and I know the rest of the year will be like this. Finally home, I text Izzy and make sure we can put something in the calendar to catch up before Christmas, otherwise, it won’t happen. I decide against making dinner again and head up to run a bath. It’s about all I can muster before crawling into bed and sleeping until morning.
While I wait for the tub to fill, I look for Luc’s note. With everything that has happened, I’ve not had the chance to call him. I look on the side table and panic rises when I can’t see it. I pick up the lamp and my book to see if it’s underneath. The floor is clear and the bed has been made up with new sheets. A ball of dread forms in my stomach as I realise the cleaner has been in to do her bi-monthly spruce up. Of all the times I’d wish her to leave things where they were, this would be one of them. I abandon the bath and grab my phone, tapping on Izzy’s number.
“Hey, I was just texting back.”
“Hi. I need you to do a favour for me.” I ignore the pleasantries, praying she’ll have his number.
“Okay…”
“I’m sorry. Look, I lost Luc’s number, and I want to call him.”
“Ohhh, this sounds exciting, but I don’t have his number. I can ask Seb?”
“Yes, yes, please.”
“He’s not here at the moment. He’s in London.” No…
“Can’t you text him?” I plead. Apparently when it comes to this man, I’m a completely new woman. One who is impatient and doesn’t mind begging for phone numbers.
“Sure. How did you lose it?”
“I left it on the side table, or in bed… maybe. My cleaner’s been in, and now it’s missing.”
“Wait wait wait. How did his number get in your bed? Jess, you are rubbish at keeping me in the loop.”
“I’m sorry. We sort of got together at the weekend. By together, I mean we had sex.”
“Seriously?” her voice holds a waiver of concern.
“Yes, and don’t’ worry. He didn’t hurt me.”
“Good. Well… I’m just concerned since this is new to you. Anyway, what was he like?”
“He was, intense and commanding and… god, I would have done anything he said.”
Izzy giggles and I flop back onto the bed. “That sounds like a Dom to me. Did he explain things to you? When are you seeing him again? What did he do to you?”
“Slow down with the questions, Izzy.”
“I’m sorry. But I’ve kept this part of me to myself for a long time. I know we’ve talked, and you know some of the details, but to have you understand, it’s...” she trails off. “It’s really good.” She’s genuinely happy, and I love that I’ve been able to give that to her. This was only for one night. The expectations and realism of what’s happening needs to be kept firmly front and centre.
“Hold on a minute. We only spent the night together, and yes, I want to call him but there isn’t anything between us yet. I’m going to take this with baby steps.”
“Oh, but you’re actually talking about a future. You never do that. You always dismiss it. This is so great.” Her excitement is infectious, and I feel a low buzz through my body just thinking about Luc.
“Well, it won’t be unless you get me his number. He told me to call him and that we have a lot to talk about.” I leave out the Solace part.
“I’ll try. Anyway, I was going to text you that shopping will be fine. I don’t know what I’m going to give Seb. What are you doing for Christmas? I’m guessing your folks?”
“Yeah, probably. What about you?”
“We’re thinking of inviting my parents up. I didn’t see them last year.”
“We’ll have to make some room for us to spend some time together.” Now there’s less time than we used to have. It’s the one and only downside to her new, happy marriage. But, it’s a selfish thought.
“Of course. You would be more than welcome after you’ve been to your parents. You could even bring Luc.”
“Well, that’s certainly not going to happen unless I get to speak to him.”
“Alright, alright. I’m on it.”
“Thank you.” And I really meant it.
Wednesday is no better than Tuesday, although the lack of driving helps, and by Thursday I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything I should. I’m twitching to see Luc. I still don’t have his number. He didn’t forbid me from going to Solace. He simply suggested we talk first. Maybe his reaction could be to my advantage. He’d be pleased to see me, and we could have some fun before the subject of talking could come up.
Déjà vu spins through my mind as I head in to park my car at Solace.
Seeing Luc was all I wanted to do. It clouded my judgement, and the small voice inside me that warned this could be a bad idea was getting quieter by the minute. Solace was a hotbed of sin, and my mind was preoccupied while inside. Our previous encounters hadn’t been good. He’d admitted that himself. Yet, here I am at the oak door, again. I knock and wait, preparing to present my argument to Mr. Butler once more.
The door swings open, and the man appraises me. He nods his head gently. “Good evening, Miss Riley.”
His greeting invigorates me with confidence, and I stride through the entry way. My tactic tonight is to be more subtle than previously. I want to watch without being seen. I want to have the upper hand and be able to put Luc on the back foot. I don’t want him to have the time to get mad at me for returning, or for not phoning. I want to see his honest response to me.
My
rehearsed speech trips through my mind as I descend into the basement. The frosted doors part, and I step through, keeping close to the back wall. My eyes and ears adjust to the gloom and music. The heavy bass vibrates through every fibre of my body. Everything in here is designed to put me on edge. It did the first time I walked through, and it hasn’t changed in my subsequent visits.
I take cautious steps through the shadows, staying away from the main areas of play. My eyes are only interested in spotting my six foot David Gandy. I avoid eye contact with anyone close by. My path leads me around the room, and I approach close to the stage area. The two big crosses dominate the area and steal my attention. I’m too far away to see the details, but the silhouettes of two people are clear. One of them is familiar. I slink back to the wall, ensuring my anonymity.
“I didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”
“Jeez…Uh, Natasha!” I jump out of my skin at her announcement. “You scared me.”
“I can see that. So, why are you back?”
“For Luc.”
“For Luc. As in for Luc?”
“No, well… sort of. Um, not sure. He left me his number, but I lost it before I could call him, and I wanted to make sure he knew I was interested. Plus, I need to apologise for not getting in touch sooner.” I half talk to Natasha, half keep an eye on Luc. I know he’s with another woman. Jealousy gnaws at the thought. But as I watch him, with a different sub, my vista shifts. I don’t just see Luc, I see myself. He’s doing what I’ve been doing for so many years. Playing. Playing with different partners, keeping everything light.
It’s like I’m watching a mirror. I can see the distance that I force on the men with whom I’ve shared my bed but not my heart. I dictated the terms and kept them at arm’s length, always ready to move on rather than risk my emotions getting involved.
Watching Luc this time, makes me realise I don’t want to be like that. I want to risk my broken heart and put some trust in this man. Seeing his hands trail over another woman’s body makes it difficult for me not to scream at him, demand he stop and face-off against me. Of course, I have no grounds or justification to act that way. I haven’t spoken to him all week despite his invitation to call him. It’s my fault he’s here with some other sub rather than having dinner or drinks with me.
Surrender to More Page 8
