Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

I’d been okay with us being open in the beginning. I’d walked around with stars in my eyes, unable to stop thinking about Lee, but I’d still managed to have fun with others while hoping for more with him. Then feelings had gotten involved fairly quickly, and I’d felt we’d been heading in the wrong direction, which I explained to Franklin. But by then, I was so afraid to lose what I’d started with Lee; I hadn’t wanted to jeopardize anything, so I’d kept my mouth shut, and we’d continued being open.

“I obviously know I should’ve told him,” I went on. “But it wasn’t something I thought about all the time. Us being open didn’t mean we spent every weekend screwing around. After we got serious—I wanna say during the first four years, I think we played with three other guys in total. Three subs he contacted on my behalf—”

Franklin reacted to that, to the point where I stopped talking. He tilted his head and frowned, visibly lost in the conversation. “Three subs…on your behalf?”

“A sub is a submissive.”

“No, I know that. But…aren’t you a submissive?”

Okay, that was an easy assumption to make, considering I’d talked at length about what an addictive, dominant personality Lee had. And what a fantastic Master he’d been to me.

“I’m a switch,” I said. “Somewhat, anyway. I’m mostly submissive. It’s kinda fluid—but sometimes I wanna take the wheel.”

“Oh.” His brow furrowed. “I never would’ve guessed…”

Excuse me? “Have you thought about my kink preferences that much?”

I’d caught him with something. He was suddenly mortified. What was I missing?

“No, it’s uh… Oh, goodness.” He fidgeted with his napkin and couldn’t maintain eye contact for long. “It’s possible that I have, uh—that I’ve conducted my own little research. I’m curious about…” He gestured vaguely to me. “I’m curious about that lifestyle.”

Oh really. Because not too long ago, I’d talked to a friend about Franklin, and I pegged him for a submissive Daddy—if he’d been into kink. And maybe he was?

He cleared his throat. “So, a switch.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah.”

“You’re a Dom sometimes,” he stated, as if he wanted me to confirm it.

I leaned back in my seat and folded one foot over the other knee. “A sadistic Dom.”

His entire demeanor was changing. He couldn’t sit still, his gaze flickered from one point to the next, and heat bled onto his cheeks.

It was hot.

It made me feel closer to Lee, however briefly, because this was how he felt when he assessed someone for play. He was a silent killer. Nobody could anticipate his strikes. He observed and dragged things out; sometimes, he toyed with his prey. I’d seen it happen a hundred times for nonsexual play at various events. He’d demonstrated everything from negotiations to interrogations, from light sensation play to fire flogging.

I’d been his best helper in the whole world.

Fuck. I averted my stare and wrenched away from that line of thought. I didn’t merely miss Lee, my boyfriend; I missed my Master. I missed being under his care. I missed being his possession. Even when he scened with someone else at an event, he kept me close; he included me in everything.

A part of the draw for me, when we included a submissive for me to dominate, was to have Lee right next to me, guiding me, setting an example.

I had to admit to myself that not everything was black-and-white. I couldn’t blame Lee for opening our relationship too much, because I did need that component. I loved the sense of power that flooded me when a sub kneeled for me. But two things could be true at once. While some sort of open arrangement was necessary to sate every need, we’d still lacked the boundaries I’d needed in order to feel comfortable.

I’d failed miserably at communicating my insecurities.

I glanced back at Franklin and knew I had to say something. I kept zoning out because I couldn’t let go of Lee. Additionally, we always talked about my problems lately, but Franklin was the one going through a divorce and other major changes.

I was done being a shitty friend. Wasn’t a whole lot I could do about possibly having been a shitty boyfriend.

“If you want to explore kink, I can introduce you to people,” I offered. “I’m part of an amazing community.” I tried to ease the tension with a wink, and I added jokingly, “Just stay away from my ex.”

He exhaled a short laugh, looking way too uncomfortable, so I’d probably failed.

I pushed a little. “I mean it, Franklin. I’d be happy to show you around. In fact—” I hauled out my phone and went to our community website. “Come here. I’ll give you the virtual tour right now.” I adjusted the chair next to me so he could sit there instead. Then I got started as he switched places. “This is what sets us apart from most other communities. We pay a not-so-modest membership fee to get access to all this.” I showed him a picture on the screen, a picture of Mclean House. A massive three-story Victorian estate outside of Mclean on the other side of the river. It was painted black to intimidate, but everyone loved the place. “We have several great communities in and around DC, but nearly all of them host their events at regular nightclubs. Like pop-up stores, only with kink. So you go and have fun for a night, and then everyone goes home. And of course, many of those arrange smaller house parties too.”