Page 72 of Indiscretion

Sometimes, during campaign season, we’ll go a month or longer without being able to see each other. And all visits by me to his apartment cease—he’ll only come to me if he thinks he can do so without being spotted. That fucking sucks but I comfort myself knowing Elliot truly needs me. Plus, I keep myself busy working, frequently taking assignments overseas during those times to keep me occupied so I’m too busy—and exhausted at night—to think about him. It also means less guilt on Elliot’s plate because I then take the responsibility for our physical distance.

Yeah, I know. It’s fucked up but he’smyfucked-up guy, and I love him.

After his elections, my pet always returns to me, crying and apologizing and in desperate need of time alone with me. I make sure that, right after the general election, I keep the following weekend and week open, and I’m awaiting him in my apartment with a fully stocked fridge, so we don’t have to go anywhere.

And I try my best to heal his soul during those too-short days together.

I can’t push him for more than we have. It’ll push him away, I’m sure of it. Either immediately, out of fear, or long-term, when something goes wrong, and he bails because of that fear. He knows all he has to do is ask me for more and I’m there.

I can only give him what he will willingly take from me.

Today, my afternoon is clear. I’m in the office but I don’t have anything pressing to keep me there.

Before I can overthink this, I text Chris back.

Sure. I’m in DC, schedule’s open right now, busy later tonight. When/where?

Elliot’s coming over tonight and I won’t reschedule that from my end for anything short of me getting hit by a cab and landing myself in the hospital, or one of my parents, or my sister, having a severe medical crisis that warrants me flying to California.

Chris must have been waiting for my response because I can’t even set my phone down before he sends me an address, tells me to call him to be buzzed in through the gate when I arrive, and asks how soon I can get there.

I’m already up and moving, shutting down my laptop and packing my things so I can head downstairs. I text him I’m on my way.

I’m…curious.

The jolt of adrenaline spiking through me means Iknowwhatever this is, it’sbig. It could be the next stage of my life. I’m not exactly restless right now, but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t stray thoughts running through my head from time to time.

But Elliot.

Elliot keeps me anchored to DC. Not because he’s asked me to stay.

Precisely because hehasn’t.

Yet whenever we get together, I always sense the ever-present fear in him when he asks me about work, about my travel plans.

About the lucrative job offers I’ve received to work out of offices in London, Singapore, Berlin, and Mumbai, among others.

Offers I’ve mulled over but always turn down outside of election season, because it would mean being away from Elliot.

I know he’s not involved with anyone else.

I mean, Iknowthis. Yes, I’ll admit I get a little stalky on him sometimes and follow him without him knowing it. He’s my pet, okay? Part of it is wanting to make sure he’s safe, and part of it is…

Well, in the beginning it was paranoia. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t fucking around on me and about to do something stupid that would catch me up in a political scandal and fuck my career.

Later, it became a way for me to keep tabs on him. Some of it he knows about, and some of it he doesn’t.

All right, fine,mostof it he doesn’t know about.

Hey, I have a certain skill set, all right? And access to amazing, cutting-edge tech. I worry about him.

At this point in our relationship, yes, I’m convinced he’s faithful to me. I know he loves me, too.

Every time we’re together, the terrified relief I feel in him as he sinks hard and deep into his submission with me…

Elliotneedsme.

He won’t ask—never asks unless he’s nearly at his breaking point—and part of that is one of the reasons I love him so hard.