More Page 4

  Every side? What does he mean by that?

  I look up at him from behind my lashes. His outward confidence and the alcohol intoxicate me. “Why haven’t you told me about your private profile? The one that shows the woman hiding inside?”

  I’m locked in his spell and don’t understand him. “What do you mean?”

  “The profile on the BDSM site you’ve tried so hard to hide, but go home and indulge in most evenings.” His comment immediately reminds me of our first “date” and him alluding to having found it. I, of course, completely ignored him and hoped he wouldn’t bring it up again.

  “You… You aren’t supposed to know about that.”

  He takes my hand in his and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. “Don’t hide it from me. I can help.”

  I gape at him. This time I’m not embarrassed that he’s discovered the secret part to me that I’ve locked away inside. Heat and lust swamp my rational mind.

  Seb pulls back a fraction to gently sweep a lock of hair off my face and tuck it behind my ear. His eyes are locked with mine and I am weak at the knees with thoughts of what he’ll do next. Kiss me. He must be thinking about it. His eyes are on my mouth and I can’t help but slowly lick my bottom lip with the tip of my tongue.

  “He’s a blind idiot, you know?”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Who?” The word comes out breathy, my body too hot and in need of water.

  “Your husband.” His tone is firm and harsh, not the gentle purr he used for me a moment ago. “Home now.”

  Before I realise it, he’s taken my hand in his and is leading me out of the bar. We walk in silence the few minutes into the city, his hand still wrapped around mine. We stop at a taxi rank and he seats me inside the first available car.

  “I’ll see you soon, Izzy.” With that, he closes the door and strides away.

  I sit in silence all the way home. What am I doing? The past few weeks have been so… fun. I have connected to someone and I desperately want to keep that, but I am jeopardising my marriage. Worse, my time with Seb uncovers just how much my relationship with Phil lacks. My phone buzzes and I have an awful thought that it might be Phil wondering where I am.

  Courage, Izzy. S

  Courage? Courage for what? Seb is edging me towards an unknown something. But what do I need courage for? To talk to Phil about wanting more from our marriage, more from sex? Courage to admit to myself that I am undeniably attracted to Seb and can’t go a single day without thinking of him, thinking of him giving me what Phil won’t?

  My mind battles with the thoughts I’ve been trying to lock away. But the key has been turned, and my eyes see visions of Seb’s body against mine, lips crushed together, hands grabbing and urging each other forward, his palm on my backside before he reaches between my legs to find my clit. Desire, thick and heavy, flushes my body and my sex pulses in anticipation. “What are you doing to me, Seb? I can’t do this.” But even as I mutter the words to myself, I inwardly question my resolve.

  “Iz? Do you want coffee?”

  The muffled voice penetrates my cocoon of warmth and I realise I need to wake up. Ohhh. But not that quickly. My head throbs and I slump back down into bed.

  “Iz, coffee?”

  “Uh, yes, please.” I attempt a type of shout, as Phil is downstairs. Downstairs—but at home and offering me coffee?

  The next thing I’m aware of is Phil sitting on the bed next to me, a cup in his hand. It smells wonderful. I sit and attempt to pull myself up once again.

  “Heavy night, Iz? That’s not like you.”

  “Not a heavy night. I didn’t keep track of how many drinks I had.” I am automatically defensive and snappy, and my head pounds as I speak.

  “Well, here’s a coffee.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t mean to snap.” I offer a quick apology, as I don’t really want to fight, especially the way I’m feeling now. “What about you? Where were you last night?” I take a sip of coffee and try to disguise the fact that I’m almost holding my breath for his response.

  “Just at Jackson’s. We watched a game and had a few beers. I crashed on the sofa.” He provides the usual answer for when he’s been out all night. “When shall we talk about it, Iz?”

  As he utters the words, I mentally collapse on myself. Not now, not feeling like this with Seb ingrained into my brain from last night.

  “What… uh, did you want to talk about?” I roll my eyes at how pathetic I sound.

  “Why you asked me to spank you and tie you up. Why now, Iz? What’s changed?”

  The question hangs in the air. I close my eyes and pretend that this isn’t happening. I knew this was coming. I’ve been trying to avoid it for as long as possible, even though it’s put an even greater hole in the heart of our marriage.

  I don’t know how to explain any of my feelings to Phil, and I am even less sure of how he might react. He already freaked at what I asked. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes. I think we should clear the air.”

  I let the breath I am holding in my lungs out and try not to fidget. “Okay, but try and listen.” I pick a spot on the mug and think of Seb’s message from last night. Courage, Izzy. “I want to explore a side of me that I’ve been denying for some time. I want us to connect, for you to listen to me and make sex about us instead of just you. I want to be able to put my satisfaction in your hands and know that you’ll think of me, about what I might like.” I peek up and see his stony face. “I want you to take control, to tell me what to do but also to take care of me. I want you to know how every touch affects my body. I want you so focused on me that you know how to satisfy me. I don’t want to ask. And I don’t want you to ignore what I tell you. Just show me, for once, what else there could be between us. And I want it to be a little naughtier.” I pause and let that sink in before I go any further.

  “So all these years I’ve not satisfied you? Gee, thanks, Izzy.”

  “No, that’s not all of it. I feel like something’s missing—”

  He cuts me off before I can explain any further. “Too right, if you think I’m hitting my wife to get her off for a cheap thrill.”

  Phil stands and paces around the room. I can see he is torn and doesn’t know what to do. “God, Iz. I thought it might have been a one-time thing. But you want this?” His voice is hard and accusatory, degrading me with his words.

  Yes, I want to try. I long to give my submission. Why don’t you know that or see it?

  “Yes, I do.” I’m not going to let him think I’m afraid of this. He asked to talk, but he can’t handle the answer I gave him.

  “Well, we might have a problem then, Izzy, because I won’t hit you.”

  “I’m not saying hit me. I don’t want violence. I mean… discipline. Sensation.”

  “Forget it.”

  “You won’t even try this for me?” I plead, a little shocked by his words, and also at how weak my voice suddenly sounds. My heart races and I’m scared of where this conversation is heading. I’ve always thought deep down that Phil and I would work through everything—including this—each giving in or compromising.

  “I don’t do that type of stuff. It’s not me.”

  No. I suddenly feel a rush of anger at how he is dismissing me. Again.

  “Well, I hardly know what is you anymore, Phil. You’re never here. You spend at least two nights a week ‘out with Jackson’. Neither you or I knew where the other was last night. What does that say?”

  He doesn’t answer but he stops pacing. He narrows his eyes at me and I shiver at the malice I see there. He’s trying to blame everything on me when he’s just as much a part of this non-marriage as I am. The bedroom stuff was a chance to finally assert a side of me that I thought might help.

  “Don’t try and turn this on me.”

  “Phil, you must see it. You can’t think that this is normal for a marriage. We don’t talk. We don’t communicate on any level. We don’t have a relationship. We are simply roommates.�
�� I’m pleading for him to see what I see.

  “So I like my space. You’ve never had a problem before.”

  “I think it’s more than that.” Since meeting Seb, I’ve started to think about Phil’s actions. I’m sure he’s hiding something. “I think you’re seeing someone.”

  “Whatever.” He storms out of the bedroom and clatters down the stairs. A few minutes later, the front door slams. Clearly not, then.

  I slump back down into bed, my heart hammering in my chest and echoing in my head. Did that really happen? Phil and I have never communicated openly about serious subjects, but things were always more simple than this. We were drifting, and I didn’t notice or care enough to question anything. Looking back over the last six months with fresh eyes, it’s hard not to see the blindingly obvious. I was just another one of those wives who didn’t consider the possibility that her husband was cheating on her.

  I text my best friend, Jess, for a pick-me-up and wish we could flake in front of a film together. Knowing she’ll always have my back is a huge relief as I contemplate my marriage.

  Sorry, I’m out at the moment. Rain check? Jess x

  I try to stop my thoughts from wandering to Seb, but struggle. Seb definitely isn’t helping, but I’m confident that he isn’t the catalyst for my troubled marriage. The night I met him I wasn’t looking for anything other than relief from a cold, dark house. These past weeks with him have given me a glimpse of what a real relationship could be like. I’m afraid to let my defences down. I’m not strong enough to fight that sort of attraction.

  Now I have the added questions about Phil to answer as well.

  As I go about my routine, albeit slowly as I nurse my hangover, I can’t help pondering all of Seb’s traits—his self-assured, confident, and controlling nature balanced with his flirty side and his ability to listen and read me like a book, all wrapped up with a strong frame and the most arresting eyes I’ve ever seen. How would Seb react if I asked him to tie me up and spank me? The question is in my mind before I even realise it, and I nearly collapse on the bathroom floor. No, I can’t! I can’t think this way.

  I need to talk about all of this, to explain to someone, that’s all. I spend the rest of the day cleaning and filing, putting things away. I do anything I can think of to distract myself. Since I asked myself how Seb would react, I’ve tried to do everything I can to stop myself going there again. But no matter how clean the kitchen surfaces or the bathroom are, I can’t stop the lust and desire, the images of carnal possibilities, from bubbling and festering under my skin. No. I’m stronger than this. I’m married. I made vows. No one said marriage would be easy. This is just a test. A fucking great big one, but still just a test. Just a test, just a test.

  That becomes my mantra for the next few days. Just a test, just a test. I haven’t heard from Seb, even though he is always on my mind. I have only heard Phil in the house, rather than actually speaking to him.

  I’m miserable. I can’t bring myself to talk to Phil and that damn thought—the question of how Seb would respond to my plea to be tied and spanked—has taken root and won’t let go. I stare into my empty coffee mug and realise that I could have an answer to that question. I’ve been desperate to talk to someone and, although I have Jess who I can confide in, it feels almost humiliating to admit what I want and what is really happening to my marriage.

  I know who I want to tell, and somehow I know he won’t judge me. You hope he won’t judge you. I’ve been circling this for the last few days and it’s eating me up inside. I want to tell Seb about what happened, to see what he will say in return. This is a very dangerous path, one that is self-destructive and has little hope of ending happily, but I can’t take the lonely emptiness I’m feeling anymore.

  I pack up my things from work and leave the office a little early to head straight to the bar. My mind is made up. Although this is the last thing I should be doing, part of me calmed the moment I made the decision to tell Seb. That scares me.

  Can you meet me? Please? -Izzy

  I press send. That’s it. I can’t turn back now. I order a gin and tonic and knock it back far too quickly, hoping that it will help me find the courage to actually tell Seb what I want.

  I pick the bar where we first met, the bar where we’ve met each time since. It somehow seems fitting that it could be the first and last place I see him. And doesn’t that send my heart pounding and my stomach churning? That’s another little message from my body, reminding me of how crazy this all is. I’ve only known the guy for a few weeks and know next to nothing about him.

  My phone buzzes across the bar top and I grab it quickly. Maybe Seb’s out of town and can’t come? Maybe he’s busy? With someone else? If I don’t do this today, I’m never going to have the courage to ask him. It’s a gut reaction and one I have to see through.

  Sure, Izzy, I’ll be there in a few minutes. S

  I close my eyes and remember Phil’s face after I asked him to spank me. The anger when he realised that this is what I really want was plastered across his face. How he shut me out completely and dismissed me. He didn’t want to understand. We’ve been together for eleven years, more if you count the two we dated, but does he really know me? Hell, do I really know me? I’m not even sure of that. I check my watch and silently curse Seb for taking his time.

  I order a coffee to sober up. There’s a knot in my stomach and I feel physically sick. It is that mixture of dread and excitement—the good kind of nerves that make your heart beat faster and palms sweat.

  I’ve gone over this too many times in my head. What will Seb think? Will he understand? How will I tell him? Just say it. Come out and say it. Tell Seb that you need something more, that you want more. The what-if’s are ruining me.

  There have been enough email and text messages with suggestive content, skirting around the topic of sex with flirting and innuendo. He’s seen my profile on the BDSM site and I can guess he’s also seen the images I like on Tumblr. There is clearly more to Seb than he openly portrays. Whether his controlled and sophisticated flirtation is simply a façade, I don’t know, but I am going to find out.

  Hands grip my shoulders and trail down my arms. Seb circles around me and takes the seat opposite, and I relax a little at seeing his face. He rewards me with his sexy smile. Breathe. Just breathe.

  “Seb, I need to… well… want to tell you something important.” I stumble over my words in my haste, but I have to get my thoughts out this minute or lose the small amount of Dutch courage I’ve built up. There’s no room for “hi” or “hello.”

  “Okay, Izzy, what’s so important?”

  “It’s just that… well…”

  He reaches out for my hands. “I’m all yours. Take a breath and tell me. ”

  “This is really hard to say.” Am I really going to tell him? This could ruin everything.

  “Come on, Izzy. Tell me.”

  His deep tones wrap around my chest and make my heart speed up. I can do this. I want to do this.

  I focus on his chest and open my mouth to step over the line I desperately hope Seb doesn’t want to keep in place. “Phil and I haven’t really been ‘together’ for a while, not in the physical sense.” I look up at him but he doesn’t say anything. His thumb gently strokes my knuckles, giving me courage to say more. “He doesn’t understand what I’ve told him I need. We’ve been growing apart for a long time and I’m not happy. I’ve changed, and I… I… Well, I need something different from our relationship. At least… I think I need it. But Phil can’t… I’ve tried to explain, but he won’t try to be the man I need him to be for me.” I pause, hoping to re-gather my rambling thoughts. I risk another quick look into his face. His eyes are hard and he’s sitting as still as a statue. Even his thumb on my hand has stopped moving. “He thinks I’m asking him to rough me up, and that’s not it at all. I don’t want violence. I want to submit.” I look down for a moment. “I’m tired of being responsible for my own sexual pleasure. I want the freedom I�
��m hoping to find in submission. I want a partner who takes the time to arouse my mind and my body, and I want to abandon myself to him.”

  I study his face to see any emotion or reaction to what I’m trying to say. Did I convey myself right? Does he get what I mean?

  The only thing I notice is the vein in his neck. It throbs hard and fast. My lips part as I imagine my tongue running up his neck to below his ear. I shake the thought away and focus again on his chest. “I asked him to tie my hands, and he did, but when I asked for something else, he got angry—well, a bit more than angry, actually.”

  “Did he hurt you, Izzy?”

  “No, not physically.” I relax my shoulders and let go of all the air inside me, physically slumping now that it is out. Will he understand what I am trying to say? I hope so. I want to be open with him. For some unknown reason, I feel I can trust him.

  “It’s just I told him it wasn’t a one-off thing I wanted to try, and he… doesn’t want that.” Seb sits motionless. My eyes drop down, unwilling to see what I think must be rejection in Seb’s face. I try to pull my hands away from his grip.

  Seb grabs hold of my retreating hands and pulls them closer to him. “Izzy, are you asking me what I hope you are?”

  I look up into his beautiful eyes. My world is lost in his hopeful gaze. Our eyes lock together and heat erupts from within me, warming my skin at this simple connection.

  “Izzy, you need to be very clear with me on this.” I nod, my courage already used up. “You are telling me that you want to experience submission at my hands, to cross a line, in order for you to understand if this is what you truly desire. You want to know the reality of submission… not the fantasy in your head or the online world you get lost in. Understand what it really is like to put yourself in another’s hands—and you want it with me. Is this correct?”

  I take in a breath, my mind racing in a million different directions. Did he just offer me more? Is this really happening? A smile spreads across my lips and I’m unable to stop the warmth that creeps across my cheeks. Our eyes still focus on each other. With my cheeks on fire, I nod. The hard grip he had on my hands gentles and his gaze softens. It is the only change in his expression. “But I’ll need…” I pause, trying to give my brain time to process. “I need you to hold my hand, to guide me. I don’t even know where to begin in this, and…”