I studied Alice, the way she moved, the way she talked. Was there something submissive in the way she lowered her eyes, or positioned her body? Any clues in the way she sat or moved her hands? It was a stretch. I usually sensed these things in submissives I met, and I didn’t sense them in Alice, but maybe that was because I’d known her for so long.
Did she sense she was in a room of profoundly kinky people? Most likely not.
Juliet poured another round of champagne as midnight crept closer. I wasn’t drunk enough, but I didn’t dare drink more. One look from Alice, one innocent kiss at midnight could easily go sideways if I let down my guard.
When the conversation came back around to music, and Alice’s job with the New York Metropolitan Orchestra, she told my friends I was making her a new violin to replace her other one. Once again, Fort and Dev threw me speculative looks. Juliet clasped her hands to her heart.
“That’s so romantic.”
They all laughed, and I forced a smile. “I’m not known for my romantic gestures, but I’m happy to do it. I rarely get to make instruments for friends, especially friends with the talent to appreciate my efforts.”
Alice’s eyes shone as she met my gaze. “I’m still so excited that you offered. I can’t explain how much it means to me.”
She meant those words for my friends, but I was the one who couldn’t look away. To my left, Devin and Ella put their heads together, whispering. They were both pretty drunk. Fort and Juliet, as hosts, weren’t drunk, just buzzed. I downed an entire glass of champagne, and Juliet refilled it for me with a secret smile. Like my parents, my friends wanted me to settle down with someone nice.
Like my parents, they didn’t understand how difficult it was for me when it came to my feelings for Alice, the back and forth of caring for her at the same time I wanted to destroy her in bed. I could see Devin and Ella start kissing in my peripheral vision. They’d been drawn to each other from the beginning, even though Ella had held him off for a while in self-preservation. I doubted they’d even notice when the ball dropped at midnight.
There’s nothing worse than spending New Year’s Eve with happy couples. I remembered Alice saying that in my car, the night of my parents’ party. On the other side of me, Fort stared at Juliet, then away, like his love for her was too much to deal with.
“I think I’ll go out on your balcony for some air,” I said, getting to my feet.
“It’s almost midnight,” said Fort.
“I’ll come back before then.”
Mean of me, to leave Alice in there with them when she barely knew them, but if I didn’t get away from all their lovey-dovey moon eyes, I was going to lose my mind. I walked through the kitchen to Fort’s spacious covered patio, his porch in the sky. In the summer, walls of vines provided shade, but in the winter, the vines died back and let in the wind. I hugged myself, looking out at the skyline. Should have brought a coat. Shouldn’t have come in the first place. Alice was right, happy couples were the worst.
You could be in a happy couple if you wanted, my subconscious whispered. It was true. There were plenty of hardcore maso subs at The Gallery who would be interested in a relationship with me. They were fun women, all of them, and easy to get along with. Many times, I’d considered asking one of them out, but the deeper connection wasn’t there. What was this curse, that a girl I’d called Lala for half my life would end up growing into the woman my soul pined for?
“Milo?”
Her voice drew me from my thoughts, and I turned before I gentled my frown. She looked apologetic. “I just thought you might like your coat,” she said, bringing it to me.
“Thank you.” I managed a smile, noting her own coat, wrapped hastily around her shoulders. “Want to join me? There’s a great view.”
She took up a place beside me, and we scanned the surrounding buildings together, finding the lit-up area of Times Square. “Have you ever gone to Times Square on New Year’s Eve?” she asked.
“Hell no. It’s too cold, with too many crowds.”
“I used to see the feeds on TV in Sweden. I always wondered if you were there, since you were my only friend in Manhattan.” She grinned. “I had this idea that I might catch a glimpse of you.”
“There are a lot of people there. Hard to pick out any one person.” I looked over at her profile, and those damn braids. “You should put your coat on and button it up. I think it’s getting colder.” I couldn’t resist helping her, touching her soft fleece coat, brushing my fingertips over one shoulder as I straightened the warm garment. “I don’t even know why I’m out here. Too much champagne inside,” I joked. “I don’t want to get wasted.”
“Devin and Ella are pretty far gone,” she said with a laugh. “But I like your friends. I love the way you’re all so comfortable around each other.”
“I told you they weren’t fancy.”
We settled into silence. I wasn’t touching her, but I wanted to be. She was close enough to touch, close enough to pull into my arms, but I resisted the urge and shoved my hands in my pockets.
“Here’s to a better year,” she said softly, turning away from the wind. “This year wasn’t all bad, but it could have been better.”
“Here’s to a better year,” I agreed. “We need some champagne to clink on it.”
“How about a high five?”
“That works.” Awkward, so awkward to exchange high fives. Why didn’t I just confess my true feelings, now, with the view and the wind? Alice, I love you so much that I can’t let myself have you. That’s how deep you live in my heart.
Juliet knocked on the glass, getting our attention, and held up five fingers before she disappeared.
“Five minutes until the ball drops,” I said. We could hear the rising wave of sound from Times Square. “I guess we should be good guests and go inside.”
“Yeah, they’ll want us in there for the countdown.”
I followed her, gazing down at her beautiful hair, and yes, her gorgeous ass that was perfectly framed by her jeans. By the time we got to the living room, all of them were standing up, champagne glasses in hand. We grabbed ours, and I took a sip for Alice’s sake. Yes, to a better year. I’d do everything in my power to make it better for her. The hosts nattered on TV, small talk about New Year’s resolutions, as the crowd drunkenly sang Auld Lang Syne. Ella and Devin shared champagne between kisses, and Fort and Juliet stood together, grinning, wrapped in each other’s arms.
5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
The fireworks on TV were echoed by live fireworks outside the window, booming like bombs. While the couples around us kissed, Alice met my gaze. I took her hand without thinking, and she stood still, waiting. She was waiting for me to kiss her, wasn’t she? It made no sense not to kiss her when everyone else was kissing, and I stared at her lips, wanting to taste them. Just a peck. Nothing serious, just a brush of my lips against hers…
Devin nudged me, nodding toward Fort and Juliet. Their heads were bowed together as they gazed down at the engagement ring Fort had put on her finger a couple months earlier. This was the year they’d become husband and wife. They embraced, kissing with all the passion of a couple who’d decided to stay together their entire lives. What a crazy leap of faith. Well, Fort had always been the responsible one, so of course he’d be engaged first. Devin teased Fort about “saying goodbye to the good life,” but he’d probably be engaged to Ella by the end of this new year.
As for Alice and me, the opportunity for a New Year’s kiss had passed. Instead, we watched the others, and listened to their settled-couple chatter. They were so happy, and I was happy for them, but I felt fucking sad, because happy couples were the worst.
Chapter Six: Alice
Blue poked his head in my door, and I beckoned him to join me in my empty, cold bed.
“Sorry we were late getting home tonight,” I said, when he’d settled down beside me. “It was New Year’s. Do you know what that is? A new beginning?” I stroked his head as he looked at me with h
is deeply communicative eyes. “You should know. You got a new beginning when Milo adopted you. What was it like to run around that dog track, and live in a noisy, smelly kennel all the time?”
Blue gave a soft sniff and snuggled closer to me.
“That bad? I believe it. I hate running, and a kennel isn’t nearly as nice as this place.” I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. “What is it about me, Blue? Does he still see me as a kid? As ‘Lala’? Does he worry about us competing as violinists? We have completely different styles, and we’ve chosen different career paths.”
Blue stretched his long, thin legs, pointing his toes and yawning. He wanted petting, not questions, and he was ready to fall asleep.
“Okay,” I said, scratching his ears. “I know it’s past your bedtime.”
I kept the rest of my thoughts to myself, like the thought that Milo just didn’t see me as girlfriend material. I’d never have a heartfelt scene like the one Juliet had experienced tonight, thinking about a wedding with the man she loved most in the world.
Maybe it was my odd coloring, my light green eyes and blonde-ginger hair. Maybe I was too tall, or too focused on my career. Maybe my breasts weren’t big enough, or my feet were too big. Ugh. I cuddled around the curve of Blue’s body and tried, without success, to fall asleep as peacefully as him.
Chapter Seven: Milo
I scanned the tables at Coleman’s, looking for Fort’s dark hair and Devin’s blond crew cut. Our weekly Saturday night dinners had been scaled back to once a month, since my friends rarely attended The Gallery afterward anymore. I was okay with it, because Juliet and Ella made them happy. When I located the table, I noted that they both looked way more relaxed than I did.
“Hi,” I said, sliding into a chair. “What are you boys drinking?”
“A Saint-Emilion merlot,” said Dev. “Have some. It’s a spectacular vintage.”
I raised a hand and called to the waiter. “Can I get a scotch?”
My friends exchanged a look as Devin put down the wine bottle. “Things aren’t getting any easier, I see.”
“Not really.”
Alice had been living at my place for almost a month now, leaving her scent, beauty, and energy all over my apartment, her strands of light hair, her coffee cups and charging cables. Before, she’d been a distant fantasy. Now she was always close, and too real. Worse, she believed that I didn’t want her, when the truth was that I couldn’t want her.
“It’s fucking frustrating,” I said, as our waiter deposited a neat scotch in front of me.
“I can see how it would be,” said Fort. “You’re living with a woman, while reaping none of the usual benefits.”
Devin tsked. “Have some class, man. He’s trying to be a good guy.” He turned to me. “Any timeline on her new place?”
I shrugged. “Even if she finds a new apartment she likes, which she hasn’t, it’ll take a while to close on it, and she hasn’t had much time to look since she went back to work. I’d offer to help her find something, but I don’t want her to feel pressured to leave.”
We paused to order our steaks—Coleman’s specialty—while I downed another swallow of scotch. After the waiter left, Devin tapped his fingers on the table and gave me one of his lofty, airline-pilot looks.
“I’ve been thinking about you and your ‘family friend’ Alice.” His light blue eyes fixed on me in the noisy restaurant. “You need to say something to her about your kinky fuckery, you know, slip it into some conversation. At least hint at it.”
“Hint at it?”
“Yeah, like, give her a Dom look, or play with your belt while she’s around. What if she’s kinky too? What if she’s a Grade A submissive masochist? I mean, if she’s attracted to you…”
I’d told them a little about our Strad night makeout session, although I hadn’t told them about her wanting to marry me, because they’d never leave that alone.
“I’m not exactly the ‘Gallery’ Milo when I’m around her,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter. The ‘Gallery’ Milo is still there,” said Fort. “There’s always the undercurrent. That’s why kinky radar works, why perverts usually recognize each other.”
I pointed at the two of them. “Both of you met your matches in or around BDSM clubs. It had nothing to do with radar.”
“All Fort’s saying is that she’s into you, and you’re into her. You have been for a long time. There’s got to be something going on there, you know, subliminally. Does she have any submissive-like traits?”
Fort and I both snorted at “submissive-like traits,” but I considered Devin’s question. She definitely triggered the Dominant in me. It was something about her sweetness, and the light, trusting quality of her character. And the one time I’d kissed her…
I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d melted against me when I kissed her, like she would have accepted anything I did to her. That was why she scared me, because I imagined she was willing to accept whatever I wanted to do, whatever urge I wanted to play out on her yielding body.
Fuck, I was getting hard. I shifted in my chair and drank more scotch, not that alcohol helped.
“It’s possible she has some submissive tendencies,” I admitted. “It’s actually probable, but I don’t know if she’s into pain, which is my main fetish. I don’t know if she’s a masochist.”
“Come on, Milo,” Dev scoffed. “She’s a classical violinist.”
“Joking aside,” said Fort, as I frowned at Devin, “we don’t know that she’s not a masochist. If you came out to her with the BDSM side of yourself, and she was amenable, you could start playing around with power exchange scenes and see how far things developed.”
“But where would they end?” I asked. “Where do our power exchange hookups always end? At The Gallery, with consensual non-consent, heavy pain, and sharing partners, and I don’t…”
Fort and Devin exchanged another amused look. “You don’t want to do that to her,” Fort said, finishing my sentence. “Hmm, where have I heard that before? Maybe from every Dom at The Gallery who’s started a serious relationship? The ones who love each other find a way to make it work.”
“You don’t understand. I really can’t do those things to her.”
“Why not?”
They both looked at me, eyebrows raised. I drained the last of my scotch and banged it on the table. “Because she’s Lilly-Alice Nyquist, and she trusts me, and she thinks I’m this amazing guy.”
“You are pretty amazing,” Dev said, batting his eyes at me.
“It’s your angsty long hair, and your eyes, and the way you make those instruments,” Fort agreed, playing along.
“Fuck you both.”
“Here’s the thing,” said Dev. “You keep saying she’s this untouchable family friend, but I’m pretty sure she wants you to touch her. Like, really touch her.”
“I wish I could.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s partly the family thing, the friendship dynamic. I’ve known this girl my whole life. My parents dragged me to her fucking christening when I was in first grade. Her christening, you know, crying infant, baptismal font, long white dress?”
“We’re degenerates, but we know what christenings are, Massimiliano,” Dev drawled.
Fort’s hazel eyes widened at a sudden, perverse thought. “How many of us get a chance to work over a sub we met at her christening? I don’t understand how you’re not all over this opportunity, man.”
I called for another scotch, and they changed the subject to ward off my rising temper. They talked about work instead, and their blissfully well-adjusted relationships, which only made me feel worse. We made it through the salad and main course before they started again on my fucked-up situation with my painfully tempting roommate.
“You know, Milo, you could conceivably start a relationship with Alice and not take her to The Gallery,” said Fort. “You could keep things mildly kinky at home, show her as much of your dark side as you felt comfortable with, and visit
the club when you needed to let loose. Lots of Gallery people play outside their traditional relationships. As long as both partners are okay with it, no one gets hurt. Well, except in ways they like to get hurt.”
“Yeah, I considered something like that for about ten seconds. Here’s the shit thing.” I scowled, pushing my plate away. “I don’t want to play at The Gallery with someone else. I want to connect that way with her, and it’s so fucking wrong.”
“Why?” Dev frowned at me. “Who says it’s wrong? It’s an expression of your sexuality, and she may be on board with it. You don’t know, because you’re too chickenshit to explore the possibilities.”
“There are no possibilities.”
“For all you know, she’s a raging maso subslut who’s just waiting for you to reach out and choke her and cane her, and fuck her up the ass.”
“No.” My loud, sharp denial rung out in the restaurant, and Fort held up a hand, silencing both of us until the people at the other tables turned back to their food. “No,” I repeated more quietly, staring at Devin. “Even if she begged me for that, I couldn’t do it to her. That’s what you don’t understand.”
“That’s such a Dominant thing,” Devin said. “If I love her, why do I want to hurt her?”
“Hey, Dev,” said Fort, the peacemaker. “Maybe you should let it drop.”
My lips flattened and my hands made fists beside the table as I imagined hurting Alice, binding her, fucking her mouth and her ass, forcing her to service me. I wanted it, and I hated myself for wanting it.
Then I thought about sharing her per The Gallery’s rules, letting someone else do those things to her, and my mind shut down. “No,” I said for the third time, shaking my head. “Just no.”
“So you’re basically fucked,” said Devin, after an appropriate silence. “It’s going to be hard for you, living with her, pushing all that stuff down. Hey, I wonder if Ella’s apartment is still open, the one her science foundation provided before she moved in with me?”
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