Trust Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  “I told you I’d be out a little late tonight, remember? I figured the knitting fair would keep you busy anyway.”

  “Not too busy for my girl. Besides, how late did you think it would go? It was interesting, though. I picked up a few new patterns, so be prepared for something fresh for this year’s Christmas sweater.” Mom’s already smiling in my direction as I come into the living room. She looks me up and down, then narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Well, look at you. Were you on a date or something?”

  “Of course not! So, what else did you do today?” I deflect, frantically searching for a story that might explain why I would be dressed up for my job at a coffee shop.

  Her suspicion doesn’t go away, but she accepts my derail, at least for now. “Well, I mostly walked around for a while after I blew my yarn budget. You know how those things are, I have to be strict with myself or I’d end up with a second mortgage.” She laughs. “Still, it was fun to explore. There was a lot more variety than the Craft Mart carries back home, let me tell you.”

  “See? There are benefits to living in a city.”

  “Oh sure, though I’d feel a lot safer with you out of it. Is it really so much better here? You’ve been away for a long time. Is it so terrible to come home for a visit? I miss you.”

  “What? No! You know I love you, Ma.”

  She smiles. “I know. And I love you too. But you don’t exactly call or write very often. Gladys and Debbie miss you too, and it’d be nice to see you in our church group again.”

  I try to match her smile but it’s hard. Her group is a strange blend of warning me away from temptation on the one hand and, as if these things happen in parallel universes, trying to find a nice man to set me up with on the other. They’re nice people at heart, but well, there’s a reason I moved.

  “Well, you know, I’m busy. Learning the new job. Spending time with friends. Keeping out of trouble.” Watching people get spanked and whipped and dripped with wax. Sometimes figged, but that’s for special occasions. Obviously, I don’t bring those bits up.

  “You better be keeping out of trouble. In this town, you’re like a lost little lamb surrounded by wolves.”

  I roll my eyes. “I like to think I’ve developed a bit more street smarts than that.” Maybe Mom is the one who should find a good man, someone who can show her that they’re not all manipulative, abusive assholes.

  Like I have. My lips curve into a smile just thinking about Keegan.

  “Are you telling me that no one ever hassles you? You’re working in a cafe, and it makes me terrified. Working directly with strangers all day long. How am I supposed to believe that someone as beautiful as my only daughter isn’t attracting all sorts of crazies?”

  I take a deep breath and try not to let her get me too riled up. “Believe it or not, my days aren’t that bad. Not all men are predators.”

  “I never said they were,” she says with a scowl.

  “You didn’t have to. It’s pretty obvious what you think. Look, the worst I get is people who think being polite is for losers, and even if someone did cause trouble, my boss is right there. Aaron’s like six foot five and almost as wide. Trust me, nobody steps out of line with him around.”

  “You shouldn’t have to be dependent on a man to keep you safe.” The way she says man makes it clear she isn’t convinced. “You can’t trust them. You know that.”

  “I can’t live in a bubble either, Mom. There are good guys too.” I picture Keegan’s dark green eyes and the way he was looking at me earlier. That was even sexier than the wild things he did.

  “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?” Mom sounds almost betrayed.

  Yes? No?

  I’m dying to talk about it, even if Mom is my only option at the moment.

  But how much do I tell her? I mean, obviously, there are some things I definitely don’t tell her. No way, no how. And does it matter? Keegan’s already made it obvious that there can be no us. Still, I was never able to lie to Mom for long, so I’ll sort of let the cat out of the bag. “There might be someone I’m interested in. Nothing official, though.”

  “Does he treat you with the respect you deserve?”

  Does whipping me with a flogger count? I ask myself idly, knowing what mom’s answer would be. “He treats me the way I’d like him to.”

  “What does he do?”

  Oh God, there’s another avenue I don’t want to go down. Why did I open my big mouth? Then again, Mom wouldn’t have let it go if I’d said no. “He’s a doctor.”

  There’s a pause. “I don’t trust men with power.”

  I sit down next to her on the couch with a sigh, putting my arm around her. “I know you don’t. I was there too, you remember? Dad was… a sadistic asshole.”

  “Language!”

  “Are you going to tell me he wasn’t?” I squeeze her harder. Neither of us likes talking about those days, but they come up often when we do talk. Too often. Just another reason I’m not a huge fan of going home.

  You’d better behave, or I’ll show you that bad girls get what they deserve! Dad’s voice comes unbidden into my head.

  God, what’s with me lately? Maybe it’s the therapy. In order to get better, some nasty scabs are getting torn off. Ugly memories floating to the surface. I remember the last time he said that very clearly now that it’s in my head. Right before we ran away. Right before he finally showed me. With his fists. I shudder and glance at Mom. She’s looking away, so hopefully she didn’t notice.

  Her mouth is a thin, straight line when she does look at me. “No. He was. Still is, for all I know. But I don’t want to hear that kind of language out of you, young lady. It’s another reason I don’t think this city living is good for you.” Her expression softens. “Anyway, just because this man you’re seeing is a doctor doesn’t mean that he’s safe. Your father was a CEO, you know. For all the things he lacked, money wasn’t one of them.”

  I nod. And when we ran off, obviously we didn’t get a cent of it, because he could afford expensive lawyers and we couldn’t. There was never enough proof to get him nailed down for anything. In the law’s eyes, it was her word against his. Mom gave up quickly, too worried that he’d insist on shared or even full custody just to spite her if she pushed for child support. We were just happy to be safe.

  “I’d like to meet him before I leave.”

  “Dad?”

  “What? No! This unofficial man of yours.”

  “Oh, Keegan.” As soon as the name is out of my mouth I know I made a mistake.

  “Is that his name? What is that? Irish?”

  Crap. “You know, I have no idea, but he’s very busy with his patients. I can try, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “If he respects you, he’ll come to meet your mother,” she says firmly, like there really is no other option.

  What have I done? Given how we parted earlier tonight, I’ll be lucky if he’ll willing to see me in public outside his office, much less come visit me at home. But once mom latches onto something, she’s like a bulldog. “I’ll try calling him after dinner.”

  “Why don’t you call him now?”

  Jeez. “Because I’m hungry.” And need a little time to think. “What do you want to eat?”

  She frowns at being overruled, but she nods. “What are the options?”

  “Spaghetti, unless you want to go to the store. I didn’t get a chance to shop.”

  “No, that’s fine. So tell me about this Keegan. What do you do together? Where is he from? How long have you known him?”

  While I rummage through my cabinets for sauce, I speak over my shoulder, “That’s a lot of questions.”

  “Mmhm,” is all she replies as she takes a seat on one of the stools on the other side of the island that separates my kitchen from the living room. She’s obviously not letting me off the hook.

  So what do I tell her? If I give her his full name, even someone as technologically backward as my mother would know how to use Google and I�
��m not sure the things she’d find would exactly set her mind at ease. I don’t know where he’s from, though he sounds kind of north east. And I really don’t like lying, especially to Mom. She’s got this sixth sense for picking out when I’m fibbing. I’m already skirting dangerously close to the edge.

  “Our relationship is pretty new, so I don’t know that much of his background yet, but we talk a lot so I’m sure I can fill you in later if this whole thing comes to anything. We’re not really together together. I like him, but no one’s committed to anything, you know?”

  “You’re being evasive. Don’t think you can fool me, sweetie. I can see it in your eyes. You look like I did back when…” She trails off.

  I sigh. “Fine, give me a minute.” I set a pot of water to boil and shake out the spaghetti. “Let me see if he’s free tomorrow, but he works late so I can’t make any promises.” Maybe he’ll have some idea on how we can handle this. God knows I could use some ideas. “Keep an eye on the water?”

  “Sure.” She comes around while I grab my phone off the coffee table and unlock it. I quickly tap out a short email, since I still don’t have his private number.

  Hey. Mom is convinced you’re my new boyfriend and she wants to meet you. Please save me!

  I do some quick Googling of his name in the meantime, as much to see how much trouble I’d be in if Mom somehow got it into her head to do it, as to see what else I can learn about him. Mom’s stirring the spaghetti into the water, so I have a few minutes.

  Crap, there’s a lot. Papers submitted in college, his doctorate thesis on the cathartic effects of corporal punishment in a consensual setting, obviously his professional website, and even some high school pictures. There really is nothing private anymore, is there?

  I’m saving a few pictures for later perusal when my mail plings.

  Did you try telling her that we’re not dating? Why does she even think we’re together? We talked about this at the session.

  He’s right, of course. I’ve already messed up by letting her think it. Maybe I can convince her that she’s wrong after all. “Mom, about that guy…”

  “Yes? When is he coming?”

  “I was fibbing, okay? There really isn’t a guy. I just wanted you to understand that I’m feeling pretty attached to living here, and I wasn’t sure how to make you realize it. I’m sorry.”

  There’s a short pause. “Nice try, but now I definitely have to meet him. I don’t know why you’re trying to hide him from me, and I’m getting worried. If he’s bad news, I can’t let you stay here.”

  I’m not sure what she could do to take me away, but I really don’t want that kind of conflict with Mom, so I take the path of least resistance. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” I tap out a response to Keegan.

  She’s like a badger once she gets an idea in her head. I know it’s dumb, but I might’ve let it slip that I was interested in someone and she ran with it. Please? If only to keep her off my back?

  The reply isn’t long in coming.

  You want me pretend to be your boyfriend? There are so many good reasons why that’s a bad idea. Isn’t there someone else who could do this, if you absolutely have to do it?

  I can hear his frustration in my head even if I’m just reading the words. He’s right, of course. I could ask my boss, but he’d never let me live it down, and I’m sure Amber could find me someone, but she’d be even worse.

  Besides, they wouldn’t be Keegan.

  Listen, I know this breaks with everything you said, but there’s no one else I feel comfortable asking. Please. Just come here, talk to her a bit and we can leave together. You can just drop me off at a cafe or something, and I’ll just read for a while and then head home. Whatever, as long as you seem nice and she gets off my back. She’s not going to let this go, and she’s terrified I’m being secretive because something’s wrong.

  I feel so dumb writing it, but I send it anyway. This is the kind of stupid ploy teenage me might have thought of if she hadn’t been so stupidly well behaved.

  It takes long enough before the next message comes that I start to doubt my last one got through. Either that, or it did and he’s trying to decide if he should report me to someone for harassment, but then my phone dings again.

  Fine. It’s against my better judgment, and you can expect this to come up in our next session. Does tomorrow after work sound good? I’ll come pick you up at 6pm, and be on my best behavior.

  Oh, thank God.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve told her you’re a doctor, but if you can leave the therapist bit out of it, that’d be great. Obviously nothing about kink, but I don’t see exactly how that’d come up anyway. Other than that, I’ve told her it’s a pretty new thing, and I don’t know too much about your background yet.

  “So, is your doctor friend too busy for your mother?”

  I jump, so absorbed in the messages that she scares the hell out of me by plopping two steaming bowls of spaghetti on the coffee table in front of me. I very deliberately turn so my screen faces away from her.

  “We’re just figuring out the details. Thanks for the food.”

  She smiles. “Just make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.”

  “Right. Thanks.”

  Relax, I’m sure it’ll go fine. It’s like a good scene: communication is key, both what we say and what we don’t say.

  Easy for him to say.

  Thanks for the lesson, BDSM swami. Have to go.

  Quickly signing off the email, I tack on my cell number. Even as I’m getting up from the couch, my phone trills, notifying me of a new text. I check it immediately.

  This doesn’t change anything.

  His reminder that we shouldn’t be together deflates a little of my relieved mood, but at least I’m not feeling any of the usual shame or guilt right now. Probably too stressed.

  “Did I ever mention how proud I am of you?” Mom says with a loving smile.

  Oh no, wait, there it is.

  13

  Miranda

  Keegan’s, right on time, pulling up in front of my apartment in a black sedan. I’m not really a car girl, but it looks nice. I watch him from behind the curtains in my living room window, trying not to drool on them at the sight of him. He’s either wearing the same suit he took me to the club in, or one much like it. I’m glad I thought to put on makeup and a pretty outfit, even if this is all pretend.

  Mom gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure about this man? You don’t seem to really know him very well.”

  I sigh. “Relax. We’ll be in public the whole time. Besides, you were the one who wanted me to set this up.”

  She snorts. “I want you to move home where I can keep a better eye on you.”

  I let it lie, mostly because the doorbell rings. “Shh. He’s here. Be nice.” I try to sound more confident than I feel.

  It’s funny. If Mom wasn’t here, I’d probably have a lot of the same reservations she does. God knows my father’s behavior did me no favors, and Mom and her church group only rubbed it in. Tack onto that my hint of anxiety, and well… yeah. But now that I have to defend him from Mom, I don’t have time to think about that.

  I open the door.

  It’s only been a day since I’ve seen him, but having him up close still takes my breath away. The suit fit him perfectly, tight over the chest and shoulders and crisply ironed, showing off his distinctive V shape that I love so much. His pants are just a little tight across the fronts of his powerful legs, with crisp creases.

  His hair is neat without a hair out of place and in his left hand are two bouquets of flowers. His gorgeous green eyes have an amused glint in them.

  I’m speechless. What’s more surprising is the heavy sigh next to me. Really? If not even Mom is immune, I might stand a chance yet.

  He holds out his hand to Mom while glancing bemusedly between the two of us. “Hello. I’m Keegan York. You must be Miranda’s sister.”

  Oh God. That was cheesy. Pretty sure
that’s not the way to get Mom’s approval.

  He smiles, and I get a little weak in the knees.

  “Mother,” Mom stutters out as she takes his hand. “I’m Miranda’s mother.”

  I blink. What planet is this on? Is my weakness for Keegan genetic?

  “Of course. My mistake,” he manages to respond without a trace of irony. “I’m very pleased to meet you. You’ve raised a strong and self-reliant woman.”

  He managed to say just about the perfect words to get on Mom’s good side. I guess he earned that degree in psychology. The effect on Mom is immediate. Even if she weren’t already struck by his good looks—which is still unbelievable to me—the pleased expression on her face is like the sun just rose in the room.

  “Thank you.” She smiles broadly. “I’ve done my best. It’s so refreshing to meet a man who actually notices that, rather than just how pretty she is.”

  “Well, I hope I don’t offend when I say that she’s that too.”

  “No, of course not.” Her eyes flutter. Mom’s freaking eyes, fluttering. I swear, I just opened the front door and fell into another dimension.

  “I brought some flowers. I hope that’s all right.” He holds a bouquet out to each of us. Roses. Mine are red and pink, while Mom’s are yellow and orange.

  I don’t care what Mom thinks of the dangers of men who come courting you. I take my flowers happily, pressing them against my face to inhale their sweet scent. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.” His answering smile makes me want to kiss him, but I can’t quite bring myself to do it in front of Mom, especially after how our last kiss turned out.

  Mom accepts her bouquet and smells it, just like I did. Really? Is a hot enough guy all it takes for Mom to forget her paranoia? Then again, I suppose she didn’t always feel the way she does. She ended up with me, didn’t she?

  When she lowers the flowers from her face, she beams at Keegan. “They’re very nice, thank you. Are you two in a hurry? I’d love to chat a little.”

  Keegan checks his wrist quickly, his watch looking very big and expensive. “Sure, we’ve got a few minutes. Maybe another day we can find some time for a proper sit-down.”