Page 8

G RIPPING MY BLACK BOMBER jacket with clammy palms, I hunch over myself on the bus, trying to will away my nausea. I can’t back down now: I know I don’t want to. I already texted Remington photos of my latest STI test results, just like he did. We flirted heavily afterward, leading me to have to hide from Celeste, hopping into the shower to properly fantasize and quell my arousal. I want this, and I want Remington; I’m attracted to him enough to erase the sexual anxiety that usually prevents me from climaxing. All I have to do is think about his hands applying firm pressure to my hips again, and my toys hoist me over the edge with squirming legs.

But now that Tuesday is here, I’m gut-wrenchingly anxious.

I probably care too much about what Remington thinks, but I can’t help it. No matter how hard I try - wearing my faux-leather platform boots, a ruched black top that flaunts my cleavage, and the coolest jacket I own with patches, chains, and even more studs than my last one - I’m still about to look like an awkward, lost doe at Club X.

Who am I kidding that I could actually be entertaining enough to play with someone as experienced as Remington? He’ll probably think it’s a nuisance to have to teach me every little nuance he’s known for years.

But the second I step off the bus, Remington’s brightening stare erases my thoughts. Chains grace his hips, a collarless and ripped black T-shirt hangs low on his chest, and a string is the only thing tying together the front of his tight pants. He looks like a lead singer, but he’s gaping at me as if I’m glorious.

I laugh, dropping my head, but Remington steps closer. Hugging me tight, his deep, welcoming hum sends a happy shiver down my back.

“You look gorgeous , L.L.B.” He pulls back to look me up and down again in his arms, and I smile wider.

“You look amazing too, Rem.”

But Remington pauses, biting his lip.

My heart drops. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve looked incredibly cute every time I’ve seen you, no matter what you wear. I just hope you aren’t trying to change your style for my sake.”

“Oh,” I mutter. Glancing at my boots, my heart hurts.

“Fuck. Sorry. I hurt your feelings.” Remington rubs my shoulders, but I shrug.

“No, I– I knew I tried too hard to fit in. I haven’t had a chance to wear this in a while–”

“Fuck, yep, you owned this outfit already. I shouldn’t have assumed you weren’t walking around like a badass every day. Way to be big-headed and make it all about yourself, Remington.” With every passing word, Remington’s sentences race faster. “Actually, I should’ve known you’d look like this. You look sicker than me, and you aren’t even inked. God, I sounded like such a dope. You think you don’t fit in here? No, you could own the goddamn club–”

Sputtering out a laugh, I give his arm a squeeze. “Remington, it’s okay!”

He groans, playfully rocking me back and forth by the shoulders. “No, no, it’s not. I just– I brought my own baggage to that comment and fucked up our greeting. Let’s try again. Stay right here.”

Before I can speak, Remington flips away from me and speedwalks down the sidewalk. My feet beg me to chase after him, but I remember he told me to stay put just in time, halting myself in place. I laugh when he glances over his shoulder, pretending to catch sight of me with an over-exaggerated, gaping jaw.

“Lilibeth Norris?! Is that you?”

A genuine laugh rises from me as multiple strangers turn to watch us reunite on the sidewalk. Opening my arms, I allow Remington to crash against my chest. Except he comes barreling faster than I expect, glomping onto me heavily enough to nearly take me out. I shriek through laughter, clinging to his back as he steadies me on my feet.

When he pulls back with his sly half-grin, I beam at him. Our noses are just an inch from brushing each other. I hadn’t realized we lingered this closely until his quick, huffing laugh tickles my lips, flipping my stomach upside down.

“You’re cute,” he whispers.

“You’re goofy,” I mutter. “In a cute way.”

Remington stares for a second too long. Except that second extends into another. And another. I’m still in his arms, but neither of us moves to let go. A tremendous pressure in my chest begs me to lean in and kiss him for the first time. But I’ve never done something so daring. Or been the first one to kiss a man. Would he be okay with it?

But as excitement ignites behind Remington’s soulful, jet-black eyes, I suddenly feel like I’m about to be attacked by a golden retriever. My mouth pulls into an even wider smile.

Then I’m forced to blink.

“ Boop .” Remington pokes the tip of my nose. Then he whips away from me. “Alright, now that you’ve been booped, you’ve been granted official entry into Club X. You’re welcome here, you belong here, and no one can argue with it.”

He puts his arm around me, guiding us straight for Club X, and my heart flips. I thought I’d be terrified entering these doors, but instead, I’m laughing.

Club X sucks us into a moody, electric dimension, hot pink LEDs lining the ceilings with not much else to light our way. Faces form as blurry shadows while my eyes adjust to the darkness, but Remington nods at everyone we pass, chatting up a few of them. They’re eyeing me; I’m tucked against the Dungeon Monitor’s side. But I’d rather stick close to Remington. There are far more people here than I anticipated for a slow Tuesday.

A sweaty man in only leather short-shorts and boots passes close by us. His back has been patched with gauze, but blood still seeps through. My stomach plunges. I’m not sure I’d be into anything like that.

Music drowns out the party that appears to be raging at the hallway’s end: the dungeon. Even after all my mental preparation, I’m not sure I’m ready to see what’s behind those steel, crackle-painted black doors. I grip Remington tighter.

But he veers us to a short hall on our left. At the end of the hall, a few people chat on a tufted couch. They’re in each other’s laps, cuddling in a playful chat. One woman, clad in leather, catches sight of us. The second I see her commanding, sharp stare through her mask, I know she’s a dominatrix.

But before I can worry that I’m disturbing her happy place, she cheerily waves to us, giving me a sweet smile. My shoulders settle, and I brightly wave back.

As Remington opens the door to a private room, he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Holy shit, you got a smile out of Miss X.”

“Oh. No wonder I feel like I’ve been blessed,” I mumble.

Remington’s sharp, abrupt laugh echoes into the private room, hardly muffled by the emerald green tufted couch or cushy bed in the corner. I bite back my smile, unable to fully relax as the door shuts behind us; that “cushy” bed also has icy metal cuffs hanging from all four corners. The dresser beside it must be full of flogging toys.

The sudden silence brings my pounding heartbeat into focus. I track Remington as he fluffs pillows, plopping himself on one end of the couch. Trailing after him, I drop my purse on the matching emerald ottoman, sitting as close to Remington as my heart can manage. We’re just sitting side by side, but now that I have him all to myself, even leaving 6 inches between us feels startlingly intimate.

I know it’s obvious I’m nervous. Remington chatters away with me, shaking off the nerves as we discuss his job at Club X and how my shifts at Salucci’s were this week.

Once we’re settled in, Remington’s lowering voice rumbles across the walls. “Before we jump into our formal talk, I have a bit of a difficult question for you.”

My heart flips. Is this when Remington admits he’s not sure I can handle this?

Remington glances at me, clasping his hands in different directions in a nervous fidget. “What makes you interested in doing this with me?” Anxiety spirals throughout my body, but Remington rubs his thumb joint. “Sorry, I– I know it’s a big question. And I know we like each other. That’s no secret. But I guess I’m trying to ask, why me? Like is the end goal in this mainly sex, or...?”

Silence hangs over me - a million times heavier than ten soup pots. I curl into myself, unable to translate my thoughts into words.

It took far more than sexual desire to get me here. I’ve been terrified of expressing myself sexually for so long that I never even considered visiting Club X, even with Gabby’s peer pressure. But the second I saw Remington, a deeper part of me opened up, wanting to be seen by him.

No, not just be seen by him - to see him too.

But how do I explain that in Club X terms?

“I want to please you,” I blurt out. Remington’s body language from the corner of my eye gives no hints as to what he’s thinking, but I know he must see my shoulders curling into themselves.

“Sexually?” He asks.

I don’t want to lie. “Yes, that’s one part of it.”

Remington doesn’t say anything. I peek at him to find him staring. He’s so serious but so neutral that I can’t read him.

So, I continue. “B-but not just sexually. Like, I like how it feels when you say good things about me, and I want you to be able to feel how nice it is too.”

Oh, he’s too stunning - an extra sharpness to his black hair today with that piercing and decked-out skin, crowning him a badass king on this emerald throne of a couch. I can’t bear looking anywhere near him, so I duck my chin.

“I-I guess what I meant to say is, I want you to feel nice, happy, and fulfilled. And I want to be the one you feel that way around since I– I feel that way around you. And I’d be really happy if that included sex someday too, but even without it, it’s been amazing just getting closer to you. I guess what I really mean is, I like seeing you pleased.”

Remington’s shoulders soften. After a long pause, he turns to me. “Sorry, I’m just gathering my thoughts since I’m feeling oddly shy, myself. Can I play with your hair?”

Loosening my wound shoulders, I break into a smile. “Yes.”

With a delicate trace over my cheek, he tucks my hair behind my ear. His fingers follow a straight line to the back of my head, softly stroking my hair at its roots. My eyelashes flutter, and Remington hums. By the time he reaches the back of my neck to give it a gentle massage, I’m burning inside - enough to flush to my chest.

Remington’s voice is low and soft. “You’re achieving that right now, Lilibeth - treating me back with a warm and fuzzy feeling. I’m so pleased by you. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me.”

I duck my head.

“Are you uncomfortable with eye contact?”

Remington’s abrupt question sends a jolt through my chest.

“No,” I say. “But also yes.”

“Hmm. Can you tell me more?”

“S-sure. No, I’m not uncomfortable since I like it. But yes, I’m uncomfortable, and that’s also because I like it. I like it a lot.”

“So you feel big feelings when we look at each other?” He asks.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I feel them too. That’s why I felt shy.”

My heart throbs so hard that my stomach won’t stop somersaulting.

But I choose to look at Remington anyway. It feels ten times more intense knowing that he could feel even a fraction of the excitement, anxiety, and delight I’m experiencing.

He tilts his head. “So, just to clarify, when you said you’d like to please me, you meant in other ways than sexually?”

“Yes, in as many as you’d like. S-so I wanted to ask during our formal consent discussion about what types of affection you like. And about anything else that makes you happy. Like why you enjoy working out.”

He hums, fiddling with the edge of his jacket. “Why I like working out is complicated. I want to feel physically powerful enough to protect people I care about.”

I hum, just like Remington. “That sounds like you. B-but what about the affection part?”

He laughs. “I love how tenacious you are. You’re not letting me get away with sharing unequally, huh?”

I bite my lip, but this time, I don’t look away.

Remington holds my gaze. He doesn’t smile. Instead, he softly touches the bottom of my chin. “Look at you. You’re doing so well in such a short time, and I’m so goddamn impressed.” His voice drops as he leans in. “I’ll tell you a secret: this is the type of affection I like most. Watching you slowly unravel beside me. Trusting me enough to witness it.”

I feel like my insides have been lit on fire. I don't know how to speak or breathe. I just know I want to be close to Remington. Touch him.

“C-can I hold your hand?” I ask.

Remington’s eyes sharpen. “Yes.”

He opens his palm for me. Even though I hesitate, I drag my fingers up it. He’s so warm. Calluses line the top of his palm, but the rest of his hand feels ridiculously soft. Remington adjusts to meet my touch until our fingers slip together. Giving me a slight squeeze, Remington stokes the fire in my belly.

“Big feelings” doesn’t cover this. My heart screams that I’m holding a hand I want to hold for ages. Even if it’s not forever, a tugging, guiding pull in my chest overpowers everything except now. Without the future in the way, all I want is to be beside Remington in the present.

Rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, I sputter out air, unable to put words together to describe the sensations in my chest.

Remington brushes my cheek again, sending tingles down my neck. “Talk to me. Even if it comes out wrong.”

“I want to touch you more,” I blurt out.

His eyebrows raise. I blink a few times, struggling to catch up with reality. Why did I say it like that? That sounded much more sexual than I meant for it to - and right after Remington sounded concerned about me only wanting him for sex.

But Remington uncrosses his foot over his knee, placing both soles on the ground to scoot closer to me. There’s no gap between our thighs now.

Running his free hand down my arm, Remington softens his voice just above a whisper. “There you go. You’ve got yourself all wrong, Lilibeth. I see you working so hard to achieve more and more of what you want, but you’re actually taking the hardest steps that most people wouldn’t dare. Ever since we’ve met, you’ve been a little powerhouse.”

“Still little, though.”

He laughs. “I’ll give you that.”

His hand slides to my lower back, drawing a line of pleasure down my core. I suck in a tight breath.

Remington freezes. “Should I stop?”

I don’t know what to say. I like it, and I like that he remembers how sensitive it feels for me, but his touch on such a vulnerable area feels overwhelming today - while we’re at Club X, in particular.

But I’ve already let Remington touch my lower back before. And what if this is a test? What if he’s a dom, like I’m suspecting? Does he want me to say “yes?”

Either way, I’ve taken too long to reply. Remington removes his hand, and I deflate. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You’re allowed to say ‘no.’”

I loosen in relief without meaning to.

But Remington becomes startlingly serious. He turns to face me directly.

“I want to be clear about something. You have full autonomy, and you always will.”

My heart hammers into my throat. “And you too, right?”

Remington swallows hard. The intensity behind his stare dims, and I fidget a little, unsure if I should be feeling such a deep need in my lower belly during this serious discussion.

But Remington speaks even softer. “Yes, if we’re good partners toward each other, we’d both have full autonomy, even during any extreme type of play. And let’s say you’re interested in pursuing some type of kink or BDSM together. Everything we’d do would be discussed and agreed upon, and forever changing. Even if we end up doing something for years, you could still change your mind one day, and I wouldn’t do it again unless you asked.”

I tighten my belly to stifle my excitement. “Y-years?”

He chuckles, copying my eager lean with a slow, drooping weight into his arm over the couch’s back behind my shoulders. “That’s another big secret I’m afraid to share with you. Because I don’t do these things with just anyone. I wouldn’t have even brought you here if I didn’t feel strongly about you. I’m just shy as fuck about how hard I’m crushing on you, L.L.B.”

Biting my lip doesn’t stop my elated giggle. “Just a crush?”

“Okay, yeah, ‘crushing’ is really underselling it. I really, really like you.”

I can’t stop smiling. “I really like you too, Rem. A lot, a lot, like you said.”

He groans. “You’re so cute. It’s totally derailing my focus from our formal discussion. But did you hear me about agreeing on everything beforehand and still being able to change your mind?”

“Yes. And I’d do the same for you.”

He strokes my arm. “Good. I’ll remind you while you’re still new to the process, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable and understand as we go.”

Heat rises between us as we remain closer than ever. Remington’s gaze wanders over me, leaving tingles in its wake with just his eyes.

But then he hums. “I’d also like you to be able to say ‘no’ to me before we try anything kinky. Do you think you can?”

I hesitate. Where I grew up, that wasn’t an option. With how heavily my heart wavers in defeat, I’m terrified my fears are coming true; I’m nowhere near Remington’s level of communication.

But Remington places his hand over my knee, sparking warmth up my thigh. “Hey, it’s okay. If that’s too scary for you, this all can wait.”

My heart sears in my chest. “O-oh. You don’t want to do this anymore?”

“Breathe. I’m still right here.” Remington cuddles closer, softening his voice. “I do, but kink and BDSM can be hardcore, and your heart is precious. I can’t do anything with you unless I know what you do or don’t want. If I went ahead anyway, I wouldn’t deserve your trust.”

My whole body softens into him. “You’re sweet, Remington.”

Remington shakes his head. “This is the bare minimum, so if you’ve never had it like this, you deserved better before. I had to learn that too.”

I don’t like how he phrased that. If he meant he struggled to learn consent like other men who were taught they’re owed everything, I feel like he would’ve called himself out, as usual. Someone must’ve betrayed his consent. But the tense way he’s avoiding my eyes tells me he’s not ready to open up about that just yet.

“C-can I hold your hand again?” I whisper.

A soft smile pulls at his lips. “Yes. You don’t have to keep asking me about that one, if you’d like to establish that now.”

I perk up, and Remington laughs. I laugh with him, unable to stifle my excitement. “Yes. You can hold my hand anytime too.”

He grins. “Okay. Sounds nice.”

As our hands reattach, my heart soars. Remington beams at my widening smile, the light glittering in his observant eyes. But having him so close has me feeling extra brave.

“Can we try again to discuss this? I– I just need some help learning it’s safe to say ‘no.’”

Remington’s entire posture loosens, drawing close enough to waft his scent over me. “Fuck. You’re teaching me things too. I didn’t catch that, so thanks for telling me so clearly. You’re doing so, so well. God, I just—” He bites his lips. Releasing them with a groan, he cups my cheeks. “You’re just so wonderful. Be honest with me— Are you okay with me calling you pet names?”

My breath heightens, heating the gap between us. I feel terribly shy still gazing at him, but I don’t want to stop. His gaze flickers across me, taking in my reddening chest. But I allow him to look.

“Yes,” I breathe. “P-please.”

He shuts his eyes with a hard exhale. “So. Fucking. Brave. Seriously, I don’t know how to contain my excitement around you, baby girl.”

His words hit my soul, shocking my nervous system with such tender affection that I gasp.

Remington’s stare darkens. “Oh, you liked that. It’s written all over you. I’m going to have too much fun, so we better get you saying ‘no’ to me.”

Still struggling to catch my breath, I swallow hard. “I-I’m afraid of being hurt from saying ‘no.’”

Remington winces. But he shakes his head. “Not here. It’s just you and me, baby - none of those old shadows who taught you that.”

My heart twinges just as hard, but this time, it stings my eyes with raw emotions. I so badly want to believe Remington. That it’s safe to say “no” to him, and that he actually wants me to.

“Go all in, Lilibeth. You can do it.” Remington whispers. “Do you know what soft and hard limits are?”

“I-I think so. Like the soft limits are things I’d be unsure about trying, but would be up for discussion, and hard limits are no-go-zones?”

Remington smooths my hair off my cheek. “ Exactly , baby.”

It’s the third time he’s called me “baby,” but the word sinks its teeth into me; he means every letter, heaping affection laced into such a small word. I have to blink a few times to refocus.

His fingers sweep down my neck. “I’m going to ask you a few basics to gauge what you’re interested in, and I want you to tell me what you’re curious to try, as well as your soft limits. Except when we get to the hard limits, give me a direct ‘no.’ I’m going to throw some wild ones in there as a challenge, and I want you to be honest, even if you think it’ll offend me, disappoint me, or hurt my feelings. The more you say ‘no,’ the easier it’ll get. You’ve got this.”

My heart flips. We’re already practicing?

But I nod. “Okay.”

“Okay. Are you interested in flogging?”

My chest tightens. Remington breaks into a sly grin, and I wince. “N-no... Why the first one, Rem?”

His sharp, loud laugh dissolves me into giggles. “Sorry. I’m not really into it either, but I’d be fine with doing it if you were. How about CBT?”

“W-what?”

His grin grows even more mischievous. “Cock and Ball Torture.”

As my eyes widen, Remington laughs even louder.

But he’s also waiting for me to answer seriously.

“N-no,” I whisper.

His sharp, huffing laughter comes out in bursts. “I’m so sorry, gorgeous. You’re doing such a good job for me that I’ll give you a break. What about role-playing fantasy scenarios?”

I open my mouth, then shut it again.

I didn’t think it would be even harder to say “yes.”

But Remington freezes. “Not necessarily dom and sub scenarios, by the way. Just like, anything. Like the wild stuff you imagine alone in bed at night, except we’d reenact them in character.”

I bite my lip. “Yes.”

Excitement races past his eyes. My heart hammers faster, but I can’t stop my curiosity.

“What about you?” I mutter.

“That’s my favorite,” he says. “But not many people have matched my tastes. I like the passionate, saviorism ones the most.”

He analyzes the whirring emotions on my face. I have no idea what I look like, especially when I’m feeling a mix of everything. I’ve never had someone to share these vulnerable thoughts with, so it feels like I’ve already leaped a mile, and we haven’t even moved beyond simply speaking about it.

But I want to.

I sound choppy and awkward, but I share all I can. “I have a certain type of fantasy just like that. Like, I’ll rewrite old fairy tales in my head where someone comes to rescue me away from a dungeon or danger, but I’ll make it– um– very sexy.”

Remington grins. “Care to share how?”

“L-like–” I bury my face in my hands, but I can’t help but grin with him. “Like, usually fairytales surround virgin princesses locked away to keep them pure, so the only way to rescue me is to have sex and ruin my worth.”

Remington’s hum hits differently this time - trailing between my thighs. “I see. That is quite the sexy fairytale, baby girl. I love it.”

I’m surprised by how tenderly my heart just ached at Remington calling my silly fantasy “sexy” - as if he held me at my core. As warmth fills the silence between us, I understand why; I’ve never had anyone affirm my innermost thoughts like this before.

“God, I love how much you’re trusting me to open up. You’re doing such a beautiful job.” Remington’s purring words pulse heat to my groin. He traces my rising chest with his eyes before lifting his focus back to my face. “What about praise?”

The sultry tone to his words tells me he’s seen right through me - probably for months . I nibble on my bottom lip. “Y-yes.”

Remington breaks into a broader smile.

But I’m not done. “B-but a big, big yes.”

His breathing pauses. Then he sucks in a deep, shuddering inhale. “Fuck. I had no idea how this would go today, but so far, we have a lot of shared interests. We could have a lot of fun, if you feel up to it.”

My heart flips. “I do. I– I really want to try, even though it’s a little scary.”

Remington shakes his head in disbelief, but he’s not smiling anymore. “I’m so proud of you, baby girl. So, so proud of you.”

He flusters me speechless. Remington laughs, rubbing my arms until I can giggle with him again. Once I regain my bearings, we get to work narrowing down our common interests and throwing out our hard limits. So far, it sounds like he’s not as interested in some of the hardcore kinks that I expected he might be as a Dungeon Monitor. I’m relieved I won’t make him miss out on too much.

A world opens up to me that I’ve never imagined possible - one where Remington might be willing to accept me at my most vulnerable. And as he leans in closer, whispering his own secrets, I’m dying to be the one to accept him too.