Nate’s words comforted me as I fell asleep.
But of course, the next morning, reality hit again. I had to face myself in the mirror. I was going to have to give something up, no matter what. Either I was going to have to sacrifice pieces of my stubborn self or I was going to have to let this whole relationship with Nate go. I’d only known him a short time. We were still just getting to know each other. It wasn’t like we were in love yet, but I could see the potential. I liked him, which was a giant step for me. I liked the way he lived his life. I could actually see me living parts of my life the way he lived parts of his life.
And he certainly understood my sexual habits. That was one of the most important traits in anyone who was ever going to be in a relationship with me.
It was strange that I was considering a relationship at all. I’d long since decided that I was going to be a free bird forever, just spending time with the people that I met through my work and the people at the Open Door. Never really tying myself to any one individual.
But Nate was special.
He was different because he didn’t ask me to be the things that other men asked me to be. Not yet, anyway. He seemed to understand that I wasn’t the girlfriend type. That I didn’t want rings and ceremonies, and he still bothered to stick around.
I brooded and fussed about this for most of Sunday.
It wasn’t until I was opening my Chinese delivery on Sunday evening that I realized I’d never even asked him what he wanted in his life. Maybe I was hemming and hawing about Nate and society’s bullshit expectations when all he wanted was a couple of rolls in the hay.
Could it be? Maybe he wasn’t even interested in being tied down. It wasn’t like he’d asked me to be his girlfriend. Sure, he’d taken me to a wedding on our second date, but he himself had said it was a fake wedding, whatever that meant. Perhaps I’d read all the signs wrong. That would be embarrassing.
And relieving.
And disappointing?
My feelings were too tangled to decipher.
I decided the only thing to do was wait for him to make another move. When he did, if he did, I would know he was still interested, and then I could ask him exactly what he wanted. And then maybe—then certainly—I could find some way to make a compromise. Find some way to let him into my life without disturbing the things that were sacred to me.
It was a good decision. I felt good about it. Really good.
Until Sunday passed with no word from him.
And then Monday.
And then a full week.
When I got dressed on Saturday night, I knew it was my last shot. If Nate didn’t come to the Open Door party that night, he was definitely over me. And why wouldn’t he be? I threw such a big hissy fit last time over…what?
Over him helping me out of an annoying situation involving an overbearing older man trying to worm his way into my bed for the eightieth time?
I should’ve been more grateful.
Why had I been so fussy about it? The strong feelings from last Saturday had faded entirely, until they no longer felt recognizable to me.
No, I didn’t want to share my apartment, but he’d never given me an ounce of an idea that he was ready to move in. As far as I knew, all he really wanted was more regular sex.
And wasn’t that what I basically spent every week chasing already?
It was definitely time for me to make up for my abhorrent behavior last week, and just as long as my grand gesture didn’t involve a ring—or a label—I was willing to do anything.
I wore the same lingerie that he’d picked out for me the night of the wedding: the garter belt and stockings without panties. I even wore the bra, though I didn’t usually harness the girls at the parties. Then I put on the dress that I’d been wearing the first night he’d met me, pinned my hair up, and took a good look at myself. I slipped on some strappy shoes. After one more glance in the mirror, I straightened my mask, took a deep breath, and left my house.
Nate wasn’t there when I got to the party, but he never got there early. This time the location was a swanky apartment on the West Side. I’d been to this penthouse before. I’d played on these marble floors.
Tonight, I was being picky with my choice of playmates. I was a wrapped package, and there was only one person I wanted to give a present to. If I had to wait for him to arrive, so be it. I was happy watching. I loved watching.
I made myself comfortable on a lounge chair, and let the Shibari master steal my attention as he tied up a young man I’d never met before. He circled the rope around his subject’s chest, binding him tightly around and around. The ropes both bound and adorned his thighs and his upper arms. They twisted around his chest and his groin, the knots perfectly aligned to create an ornate pattern over the young man’s body.
When the master was done, his subject looked beautiful, secured and ornamented as he was, but he could still move freely, even with his body mostly tied up in rope.
I’d been tied up before—of course I had. But not by a Shibari master. When I’d had ropes around me in the past, it was meant to be bondage. I wasn’t supposed to be able to escape. This man could still move if he wanted. He wasn’t restricted at all. I wondered what it felt like to be so expertly wrapped up in cords and yet not be shackled. What it felt like to be bound, yet still be able to move freely.
There was something beautiful about it. Something that made my eyes sting. Something that made me think about the couple long after the show was over and other entertainment had taken the main spotlight.
An hour passed. The crowd got wilder. The kink got naughtier. The scent of sex grew stronger as each minute passed, the ache between my legs spreading up into my belly. As the night slipped further into itself I worried I’d missed my chance.
It was close to midnight when he finally arrived.
My prince.
He wore a mask, but I knew it was him. I recognized everything about his body, from his bearded jaw to the sculpted frame underneath his tuxedo. My chest tightened as soon as I saw him, and I had to hold myself back so I didn’t leap into his arms. He wasn’t mine. He didn’t come here just to be adored by me. I had to remind myself of that, that these parties were for all of us.
He made eye contact with me though, and I knew from the way he met my gaze that I was still the Only One in the Room for him.
It occurred to me that he might be the Only One in the Room for me too, even with all the other players around us.
The realization was staggering, but it wasn’t like I could just announce it. Not in a room full of men I anonymously served in other ways Monday through Friday.
So as I’d done all night, I waited.
When a game with a young mistress finished, Nate surprised me and took center floor. “Whoever here gives me the best kiss,” he said, circling the room, his eyes scanning over both the ladies and the men, “will get the present that’s in my pocket.”
There was already a line of people, brushing close to him, eager to try out his lips, certain that the present in his pocket was probably a turn with his cock. Who wouldn’t want to adore the cock of this magnificent man? For those who had seen it, they knew it was glorious. For those who hadn’t, it was a mystery they were more than ready to solve.
I watched as he gave kiss after kiss, my belly tightening, my blood humming. I watched as women came up with bare chests and grabbed his hand to grope their breasts as they slipped him their tongues. I watched as a young man pushed him back onto a chair and straddled his lap so he could dominate him with a French kiss.
I was completely wet after that particular scene.
Finally, when the line had dwindled and there was no one else in front of Nate, I stood up. “I’d like a turn,” I said, like he’d said that first night, when he’d still been a stranger.
He gave me a nod, his sexy grin just barely perceptible underneath his beard.
I took off my dress and stood in front of the crowd wearing only my garter and bra. Then I fell to my knees, and I crawled to him on all fours, slowly. Intently. Crawled the way he deserved to be crawled to after the shitty way I’d acted.
When I got to his chair, I laid my head on his knee, and suddenly, my chest felt heavy, like I was wearing a corset and the strings were too tight. My eyes began to water. “I don’t even know if you want me,” I whispered.
He pulled me into his lap. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
I climbed up tentatively and straddled him much the way the dominating man had, but my kiss was gentle, reverent. Pleading. It was a kiss that asked. A kiss that negotiated. A kiss that split the difference between his wants and mine, without even saying a word.
When I was done, I pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “I don’t want to make any assumptions,” I said, repeating the words he’d said to me the last time we’d seen each other.
“Assume,” he said, cutting me off.
I hesitated only a second. “Okay. Then, I assume what’s in your pocket is mine.”
“You bet it is, baby.” He stood up, taking me with him. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private. I have some things to say before I give it to you.”
Someone in the crowd made a joke about him giving it to me, and somebody else booed because they hadn’t been the winner. But pretty soon everyone moved on to their next activity and forgot all about Nate and his pocket and his game.
He set me on my feet and took my hand, and led me to a bedroom that was probably off limits—but who even cared about rules at the moment? Certainly not I.
I fell into his arms. “I missed you,” I said before he had a chance to say anything else, before my anxiety had a chance to take over and my doubts prevented me from getting it off my chest. I peered at him through the holes in my mask. “I don’t want to...not see you so much. Is that something you might want too?”
“I would very much like to see you more,” he said, his hand cradling my face. “Look, Trish. I heard you the other night. I listened and I understand. I’m sure that there have been a lot of people who’ve wanted to tie you down. It’s hard to see something as amazingly free as you are and not want to capture it. Trust me when I say I know what people will do to get their hands on rare art.”
I kept my eyes steady on his, unsure where he was going or if he really did understand me, or if all this was leading to why my version of a happy ending didn’t match his.
“I get you, babe. Because I’ve never wanted to be tied down either. And I would never dream of taking anything away from you. I don’t want to imprison you. I want to fly with you.” He dropped his hand from my face so he could push his mask off his own. “Look, I know what I want. But more importantly, I know what I don’t want. And I don’t want to be looking for some elusive ideal either. I’m forty-five years old, Trish. I don’t want to fly alone for the rest of my life. I want to know that there’s someone to fly with. I want that person to be you. I think that person was maybe always you.”
Again, my eyes teared up. Good thing I was wearing a mask and no one could see.
Except then, Nate slipped my mask up on top of my head and wiped the stray tear from my cheek. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny box, rectangular shaped, not the kind that fit a ring—thank God. The kind that maybe fit...a pin?
I frowned, puzzled as I took it from him. “What is it?”
“Open it. Find out.”
Tentatively, I unwrapped the bow and slid off the lid. Inside, there were two keys, not matching. One, though, looked oddly familiar. Like the key to get into the building of my apartment.
I peered up at him questioningly.
“I rented the unit next door to you. For now, it’s off the market. If everything works out, I’ll buy it.”
My heart skipped a beat. “You Annie Leibovitz’d me?”
“I’m certainly trying.”
I pulled the keys from the box, looked at them, and handed them over, because they didn’t belong to me. They belonged to him. Just like a part of me belonged to him.
“This way, we can ride home in a cab together,” he said, “not because we’re assuming anything, but just because we live next door. And if you want to see me, I’ll be there. If you need your space, you can always shut the door. You’ll always have the opportunity to have a wall between us.”
I crashed against him, throwing my arms around his neck and molding my lips to his. “It’s amazing. You’re amazing. You fixed it!”
He gave a half shrug as his hands began roaming over my scantily clad body. “Can we ‘not’ go home together now? I don’t officially move in until tomorrow, but I put an air mattress down in case you want to stop by and visit your new neighbor at any point during the night.”
“We should christen every room!” I was as excited as the hard bulge poking into my belly.
“I have no objection to that.” He took my hand and started to lead me out of the room, but I tugged him back suddenly.
“Nate, if you do end up buying the apartment, maybe one day we could put a door in the wall between ours? So we could rendezvous without having to get dressed to go out in the hall and all that.” Geez, I didn’t know where that idea had come from, but there it was.
He had a twinkle in his eye. “Of course. Practical.” He started again to leave.
Again I tugged, my feet planted in one spot. “And if one day after that, someday in the future maybe, if we wanted to take down the wall altogether…?”
My heart was in my throat, my hand sweaty in his when he said, “I think this thing between us is going to be just fine.”
A short time later, with our masks donned and my clothes on, my prince and I stepped out into the cold night and caught a cab so we could go back to our apartments and spend time together—or not. The options were wide open.
It turned out there was a happy ending for me after all. It was a dirty, filthy fairytale, but it had a happy ending all the same.
* * * *
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