Chapter 2
Anya hurriedly wrote down the last point as the professor rang the tiny bell on his desk to signal the end of the exam. She breathed a sigh of relief as she checked to make sure she wrote her name before she stood up, swung her bag over her shoulder and made her way down the bleachers.
She took a quick look at Lisa who was still writing the last point. She glanced up and gave Anya a tight smile before she glanced back down. She quickly picked up her papers and made her way down.
They both quietly handed in their papers before they demurely made their way out of the lecture hall.
“YES!” They both yelled at once as they threw their bags on the floor and embraced each other. They stood in front of the lecture hall hugging each other like two people who had been stranded at sea as people were forced to part to make their way past them.
“We’re blocking the exit, aren’t we?” Lisa mumbled.
“Yup.” Anya responded.
They released each other, picked up their bags and interlocked arms before walking down the hallway.
“It feels great to finally be done with college.” Lisa announced as she took a deep breath as if inhaling air for the first time.
“Urgh don’t remind me. I still have one more final tomorrow.”
“Oh, you’ll ace that, don’t worry so much, An. You know the material, and it’s not a written final. It’s a debate.”
“Exactly, you know I hate public speaking,” Anya pointed out as they made their way through the throng of students chattering excitedly, their conversation buzzing in Anya’s ears as if they were busy bees in a hive going about their day.
“Luckily for you, it’s a sexy topic,” Lisa swung her blonde hair over her shoulder as she fished around her purse for her keys. She finally found them a while later and shoved her hands in her blue jeans as she adjusted her flowing green top.
“Only you would refer to 50 shades of Grey as a sexy topic,” Anya said as they approached her car. The car beeped as they slid in. Anya adjusted her black top and wiped her hands on her knees, hating the fact that she sweated when she was nervous.
“It is a sexy topic. I mean BDSM not Christian Grey.”
Anya clicked her seatbelt into place as she turned around and put on her sunglasses. “On that point at least we agree. Not about BDSM cause I’ve personally never tried it, so I can’t offer any insight on that, but in regards to Christian Grey, we are in complete agreement.”
Lisa shot her a disbelieving look as she pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway, “You’ve never tried BDSM? Seriously?”
Anya shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “Never been comfortable enough with a guy, I guess.”
Anya watched as Lisa pursed her lips, “But you want to?”
Anya sighed as she thought about it, “Well, I’ve always found the idea of being handcuffed to the bed quite…erotic, but I don’t know, I guess I’ll have to try it.”
Lisa grinned devilishly, “Maybe tonight you’ll get lucky.”
Anya groaned, “The party again? Seriously? Lis, even if I end up having a good time, I’m definitely not going to try handcuffing with a guy I just met. That requires a lot of trust and patience.”
Undeterred, Lisa continued, “We’ll just have to wait and see then.”
***
Anya gave herself a once over in the mirror thinking that Lisa had definitely gone overboard with the makeup, but before she could reach up and wipe it off, she heard Lisa’s voice from inside the bathroom, as if she somehow had eyes and ears everywhere, “Don’t you dare wipe that off. You look gorgeous! So stop.”
Anya sighed as she gazed at the black dress Lisa had brought her just for the occasion. It was a birthday gift that Anya felt was completely unnecessary, but it fit her perfectly.
She thought it made her ass look too big, but she was comfortable enough in her own skin to realize that she was never going to look the way society expected her to look, and that was okay too.
“I’m going to wait for you downstairs, Lis.” She called out as she grabbed her purse and gingerly made her way downstairs, hating the way the heels made her feel awkward and ungraceful.
She headed for the kitchen and rummaged around in the fridge for some juice. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and slowly sipped at it as she heard Lisa’s dad call out for her.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she smoothed down the front of her dress and called out, “She’s upstairs Mr. Grant.”
“Is that you, Anya?” He emerged a while later, and Anya’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of Lisa’s dad dressed in black jeans, a button-down blouse with his hair artfully slicked to one side. He looked much younger than he did in his business suit, and that woody smell she associated with him wafted towards her, and she had to clench the counter behind her back to keep from saying something stupid or, even worse, flirty.
“Hey, Mr.G,” she said weakly. Russel gave her a small smile and paused as he took in her dress. He gulped audibly, “Don’t you look nice today, Anya. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, Mr. G.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears, so she cleared her throat and pushed herself off the counter as she tried for an air of nonchalance to dispel the suddenly tense atmosphere, “So how’s the world of graphic designing?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Keeping us on our toes always.”
“I bet.”
Russel Grant frowned as he noticed the book sitting on the counter, “is my daughter reading 50 shades of Grey?”
“Oh, no. That’s me actually.”
Russel looked at her in surprise, “I didn’t think that was your kind of book.”
“It isn’t,” she flushed as she began fidgeting with her hair, “It’s for a literature course I’m taking. It’s requisite because of my literature minor. Contemporary literature.”
“They actually teach these things?”
“Well, actually,” she searched for her cup and took a huge gulp as she paused to gather her thoughts, “I picked the book because I wanted to debate something that was controversial and at times offensive, but people still made it a bestseller.”
Russel cocked his head to the side as he leaned back against the wall and crossed one leg over the other. “How is 50 Shades of Grey offensive?”
“Well, okay, I’m not going to discuss the BDSM aspect, that’s a personal preference in the bedroom.” She paused when she said this and glanced a peek at Russel who aside from a muscle ticking in his jaw gave nothing away, “I’m talking about Christian Grey’s attitude generally. I mean, I know he was abused as a kid, but that doesn’t give him the right to stalk Ana and generally try to control her life. He’s rich, successful and handsome, that’s why women think it’s okay. But if Christian Grey lived in a trailer park, he’d be labeled an obsessive psychopath.”
“You feel that’s what he tries to do? Control her I mean,” Russel clarified when he saw the look of confusion that crossed Anya’s face.
“Well, yeah, and even in the bedroom. I mean demanding that she become submissive to his every whim and call him Sir, that’s very archaic and sexist. That sets the whole feminist movement back.”
Russel gave her a wry smile. “Not that I’m not pro-feminism, but consider this. You just said that BDSM is a preference, so isn’t choosing to be a submissive a personal choice?”
Anya pursed her lips, “I guess so, but why would a woman make that kind of choice? Her body should be hers to do with as she pleases, not be laid down at the feet of a man who treats her as an inferior.”
Russel uncrossed his arms and moved towards her casually. “So you feel a man can’t dominate a woman without making her feel inferior?”
“Well, admittedly, I don’t have experience in that area, but I find it hard to believe, yes.”
Russel studied her quietly as he went to the cupboard to get a glass. His arm brushed hers, and their eyes met for a moment, an electric current passing between them that had them both inching in closer.
Russel cleared his throat as he took a sip of his water, “I think you’d feel differently if you actually experienced it.”
“Is that so?” Anya murmured as they stood next to each other, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the body heat radiating off of the other person.
“Definitely,” he affirmed as he stood there, “Do you understand why some women enjoy BDSM? The concept behind it I mean.”
Anya thought about it for a second before she shook her head, “I’d like to say I do, but I honestly don’t. I guess it’s some sort of kinky fetish?”
Russel turned his head to look at her and gave her an impish grin, “Well, that’s an interesting way of putting it. I suppose in a way, you could say that, but actually there’s a science to it.”
“Science?” Anya questioned disbelievingly. She turned, so she was facing him, and they were both separated by a mere breath of air as they continued their discussion.
“Science,” he assured her as he gestured with his hands, “consider this, the nerves that send signals to your brain to let you know you are experiencing pleasure are not that different from the nerves that send signals to indicate pain.”
“Yes, they are,” she interrupted hotly, “How can you even compare the two? That’s like undermining pain which you have to admit is a very powerful feeling.”
He snapped his fingers, “Exactly! You just said it yourself, pain is a very powerful feeling, and so is pleasure. So imagine if you have two very powerful currents overlapping, wouldn’t they create a bigger, more electric charge?”
Anya cocked her head to the side, “Well, I guess if you think about it that way, but that’s assuming you can even out the energy discharge of both factors, and how would you be able to manage that?”
Russel gave her a wry smile, “That is where BDSM comes in. That’s why there are safe words, and limits, and that’s why you discuss everything ahead of time to make sure each person is comfortable. That’s also why it’s important for the dominant to know what they’re doing, when to apply just a little bit more and when to hold back.”
Anya studied Russel carefully wondering just how he knew all of this. She gulped as the realization came to her, “You’re a dominant, aren’t you?”
Russel looked at her quietly, his face smooth and impassive, “That’s really my business, Anya. In any case, it’s not something I’d discuss with a twenty-one-year-old, particularly not my daughter’s best friend.”
Anya’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Why do you do that? I’m not a child. I’m a legal adult.”
Russel raised an eyebrow. “You think numbers make you an adult? They don’t. Experience makes you an adult.”
“I’ve got experience,” she responded tartly.
“Well, do you now?” Russel pushed himself away from the counter and strode towards the kitchen door and checked outside. He took Anya’s hand and pulled her into the office and locked the door behind her.