Page 3 of Any Which Way

W ith gentle fingers, I trail over the smooth surface of the glossy four-by-six-inch photograph. It’s me, nearly identical hair and beard to what I have now. Slightly skinner and way naiver about the world that lay ahead of me.

The delicate fishnets I wear in the picture hug everything .

My heavy cock lays against my stomach in the photo, the crisscross pattern running from the tips of my toes, trailing up my legs, and only coming to a stop to sit low on my hips.

They’re the only stitch of clothing I wear as I lay stretched out on a plush bed covered with pillows and blankets as gentle light illuminates me from a nearby bedroom window.

I miss the version of the man staring back at me.

I don’t remember the exact moment I decided to lock him away, decided being soft wasn’t going to get me what I wanted in life.

Instead, each experience I had over the course of a few years stacked on top of one another like a clumsy toddler playing with a pile of wooden blocks until they came crashing down around me.

The man in the photo in front of me—the man who loved to feel decadent fabrics against his skin, who craved submission at the hand of a strong yet understanding woman… That man doesn’t exist in this life.

But if the flyer Eleri gave me last week for the Glittering Vices workshops is to be believed, there might be a way to find my path back to the version of myself I’ve slowly begun to crave while still staying true to the man I am inside today.

With unsure hands, I unfold the paper, smoothing out the creases which have etched themselves into the sheet as if part of its very essence.

Words dance across the glossy flyer— liberation , freedom , expression, self-love .

Together, they swirl with the words dancing through my brain, the fundamentals of trust , communication , and honesty that Brynn, Eleri, and I expertly built our relationship upon.

I sift through a few more pictures of younger, lingerie-covered me as the flyer continues to taunt me with its inanimate yet somehow mocking tone.

Hidden mementos of a time before I met the women who hold my heart.

Silks and delicate lace, bright neon colors and muted nudes.

They’re all mixed into the stack of photos I hold in my trembling hands.

Knowing the love Eleri and Brynn have for me, it should be easy to take this next step, to confide in them.

But though I have learned to excel in my role as a dominant, though I have given numerous partners the freedom to be their true selves and let go, I am rarely able to do the same for myself.

Especially now, after I’ve kept this part of myself from them since the day we began our relationships.

“Honey, I’m home!” Brynn’s sing-song voice brings an instant smile to my face despite the storm raging in my stomach.

I look between the photos in my hand and the doorway to my room, knowing my gorgeous girlfriend will be crossing the threshold into my space in less time than it takes to recite the badass monologue the president gave before the climactic battle in Independence Day. The original, of course.

Taking the few moments I have, I tuck the pictures under the flyer, making sure that they’re photo side down. God only knows I don’t want to be the cause of Brynn fainting… again .

Her smile radiates warmth, brightening the space the second she walks into my room.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? I was excited when I saw your car in the driveway. The great Kai Soren home in the middle of the day ?” She exaggerates the end of the sentence as if I’ve never left the office before five in the evening.

Though truthfully, she may be right. I can’t remember the last time I made it home for dinner with both Brynn and Eleri. Hell, half the time, I only see Eleri in passing. I’d love to see her more. To touch her just as much as I do Brynn, to feel Eleri touching me.

But first thing’s first.

Meeting Brynn halfway across my bedroom, I pull her into my arms, slanting my lips against hers as I delve into her shoulder length hair with my hands. She startles for half a second before melting into my body, her lips parting with a surprised gasp.

We break apart, her breaths unsteady while her plump lips already show the barest hint of being kissed. “I wanted to make sure I got to spend some time with you before you went to volunteer tonight.”

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t have to go into the shelter tonight to take pictures of the animals.

” Brynn does a little dance that’s supposed to be silly, but it only serves to wake up my cock for the first time in what feels like weeks.

Even now, she is effortlessly sexy, effortlessly herself in a way I both admire and envy at times.

I only wish she saw it in herself the way I do.

“For the first time in seven years, there are no animals at the shelter! Some big-shot athlete shared a recent post online, and it went viral. They’ve had such a generous influx of cash donations and supplies that donations are now being routed to other local area shelters.”

“You mean a post you created. Don’t be so modest, Brynn. You’re the one who made that happen for everyone involved. You should be proud of yourself.”

Her nose wrinkles like an unpleasant smell is in the air instead of the ever-present smell of clean cotton that follows Brynn wherever she goes. “I am proud. It’s just…”

I don’t give her time to finish, knowing she’ll only further disparage herself and her successes. “One more negative word about yourself and I’ll make you write lines every night for a week.”

“You wouldn’t dare .”

Of course, I actually would dare. And with a simple arch of my brow, my intention is made clear. Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t want to embrace my dominant side at all. And Brynn’s responsiveness makes it so appealing.

Moving our conversation along, I guide us back to the topic I hope to discuss with Brynn.

We’re close, still just a few inches between us.

I reach out to link my fingers with Brynn’s, instinctively looking for something to ground me to this moment before my nerves lift me off the ground like an overpriced, helium-filled balloon.

“Actually, this works even better. Unless you already have plans? There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about, something I want to show you. ”

Brynn laughs, the sound echoing through my room like music on the wind. “As if plans would keep me from whatever this is.” She waves her free hand over my body. “It’s not every day you exude anything other than confidence.”

I don’t crack a joke, causing Brynn to sober. The color drains from her eternally bronzed skin. “Oh, my God, Kai. Is everything okay?”

Christ, now I’ve gone and made the poor woman think I’m dying or some shit.

“Fuck, shit, yeah. Everything’s good. I’m good. It’s about…” I meet Brynn’s eyes as I rub the back of my neck with my free hand, knowing it’s now or never. “It’s about the pictures.”

Her eyes go wide, an innocent look I’m used to seeing feigned in the heat of particularly bratty play. But now, the innocence wars with an inquisitiveness I know is sincere.

I’ll give her credit. Brynn isn’t one to hold her tongue. But she waits, giving me the time I need to compose myself before I launch into the carefully practiced monologue I may or may not have performed in front of the bathroom mirror earlier today.

Which of course, I forget every word of the second I open my mouth, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind instead. “I used to sell my services as a submissive to wealthy women seeking companionship as a way to put myself through college.”

Jesus Christ, Kai. You have two gorgeous women you love, a net worth of three million dollars, a double master’s degree, and countless other fulfilling things in your life. Why is a little bit of vulnerability driving you to the brink of insanity?

“ Okay …” she responds slowly. “You know that’s nothing to be ashamed of, right? For about six months, I sold my panties to people on the internet. Sex work is real work. I’m surprised you, of all people, have an issue with it.”

“No, I mean—wait… What? We’re totally coming back to that at some point.” I try to comprehend everything she just said while maintaining focus on the conversation at hand. “That’s not what I mean. Just… sit down with me.”

We settle onto my bed, smaller than the king mattress in Brynn and Eleri’s bedroom. I could have easily fit a king as well, but I wanted to keep my space cozy and low maintenance, sometimes needing a calm place to retreat after particularly stressful days full of meetings.

Brynn positions herself on her side, eagerly waiting for me to begin while I lean my head against the headboard and close my eyes.

Her fingers find my forearm, and the gentle circles she draws against my skin relax me enough to finally tell Brynn about the one part of myself I’ve kept from her until now.

“Three semesters before I was supposed to graduate with my bachelors, I lost all the scholarships I had been awarded. It was my own fault. I had been in a car with a friend who had been drinking, and we got pulled over. Hindsight, I’m forever grateful nothing worse happened.

Hell, I might not have been the one behind the wheel, but I would have still been just as responsible had something serious occurred, and that alone was enough to sober me up for good.

I couldn’t live knowing I took someone’s life because I was some stupid, reckless kid.

Anyway, I had been at Ellison State on a full-ride athletic scholarship, and everything was gone. ”

Chancing a look at Brynn, I find she’s watching me with rapt attention.

There is no judgement in her eyes. Honestly, I don’t know that Brynn could truly judge someone poorly if she was forced to.

It’s simply not in her makeup. I keep going before I lose my nerve—something that rarely happens when I’m feeling fully in control. Right now, though, I’m anything but.

“I was such a shithead my entire life. Gave my parents so much hell. You and Eleri always joke about sending my sisters gift baskets. But I can’t give them all the credit.”

“What does this have to do with the pictures?”

Her impatience brings out an honest grin. “You’re a little shit. I was getting there.”

Brynn giggles, the dimples on either side of her smile popping. “Sorry.”

“ Anyway , as I was saying, I knew plenty of girls who had gone to websites looking for arrangements of companionship in exchange for money. I figured, what the hell. If women did it, why couldn’t I?

If there was one thing I refused to do, it was to let down my parents again.

I couldn’t let them see me as a failure my entire life.

The scholarships I had were the only thing I had going for me.

My sisters were always hitting home runs while I was barely able to make it to first base.

“It didn’t start as something sexual. I did things like accompany women to charity galas, pose as dates for weekend long company retreats—that sort of thing.

It paid well, and I was able to cover my college expenses without my parents finding out that I had lost my scholarships.

But as expensive as my undergrad was, my graduate wasn’t any cheaper. ”

“You kept doing it?” Brynn asks. “The whole companionship thing?”

Again, it’s asked without judgement, as if she’s not exactly sure how to word her question. And that’s perfectly fine with me. I’m happy she’s open to even hearing this story at all.

“I met a woman who asked me if I would be interested in a different type of relationship.

It was the first time I heard the term power exchange .

Of course, I had known of BDSM, mainly what I had seen in movies and television, but she wanted something completely different than what I knew.

She wanted to pay me for my companionship, but she expected me to wear certain things, to present myself to her in specific ways.

“Not necessarily high protocol but the closest I’ve ever come.

Day after day, I would go to class and devote myself to becoming the best I could be before falling into her arms each night.

She quieted my mind with skillful hands and reassuring words in a way I have never known.

I grew accustomed to the feel of lace on my body.

What started as something foreign began to feel like a second skin, and when she asked if she could take photographs of me in the outfits she painstakingly picked out, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. ”

The way Brynn’s focus is on me, one would think she’s watching a riveting documentary on the lesser known bizarre sea creatures of the deep.

Although, come to think of it, she usually passes out about halfway through those things, claiming the British narrator’s voice is the only thing that helps her fall asleep.

I hold the pictures out to Brynn.

She hesitates.

I give her a gentle nod of reassurance.

Brynn pushes herself into a seated position atop the bed before taking them with the care of an inexperienced glassblower working on their first masterpiece.

And then, as she thumbs through the pictures, I do the only thing there is to do.

I wait.