“Punishments?”
Thank God he didn’t make me say the word. I couldn’t have said it. But it was exactly what I meant.
He knew from my open mouth and pleading eyes that he’d hit the nail on the head. I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move, couldn’t resume my life, until I heard his next pronouncement.
“I see. But you’re a grown woman. I can’t exactly ground you. I can’t confiscate your mobile phone or withdraw your television privileges. I don’t live with you.” He left a telling space, waiting for me to say nothing, before continuing. “Ah, you don’t mean that, do you, Lara?”
“Not sure what I mean,” I whispered.
“Well, you should be. You should be very sure. For legal reasons, among others. I have no intention of finding myself on the wrong end of some unsavoury lawsuit.”
“That won’t happen. We can make an agreement. That’s if you…agree. To the agreement.”
“Such an agreement could only be informal. How could it be notarised? Would you really want it witnessed by a third party?”
“No. But you have my word. My solemn promise. Whatever you decide.”
He thought about it for a moment, drew in a quick breath and sat back, his hands steepled on his chest.
“Let’s be clear now. You are talking about some form of…physical discipline, aren’t you?”
“Mmm, hmm. Maybe.”
“And you aren’t going to be more specific than that?” He was smiling, a slightly sharky, but also slightly sexy smile.
I thought I might have tapped into something here after all. I thought I might not have completely misread him. “It’s…hard to say the words.”
“I understand. But this is a tricky area, isn’t it, Lara? Because if you are trying to negotiate me into satisfying some long-held sexual fantasy…”
“I…oh. Well. No. A bit. But no.” I needed to give up talking. I was clearly halfway there already.
“Lara, relax. I’m not rejecting the idea out of hand. I’m just thinking that if you want me to do…things…to you, it might not be the best incentive for you to continue adhering to the plan. I have this feeling that you might start forgetting things ever-so-accidentally-on-purpose. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“I’ve tricked you into being my life coach when what I really want is a…is a…”
“Dom?”
I buried my face in my hands. I was the biggest loser in the history of the world. I had blown it, Big Time, capital B, capital T. Pass the Merlot and the Phish Food as a matter of urgency.
I was so deep in the morass of personal humiliation and despair that I didn’t notice he was no longer sitting opposite me, so I jumped high enough to kick the chair over when his voice materialised in my ear.
“It can be arranged,” he said.
“Fuck! How did you do that?”
He had to put a hand on my shoulder, to stop me going into florid meltdown.
“Shhh, Lara, listen. Look at me and tell me it’s what you want.”
I looked at him. He was tall and I had to crick my neck a bit, which made me happy. I’d have to tiptoe to kiss him. Could I ever kiss him?
“I think it would work for me,” I said, suddenly calm and confident. I think it was the nearness of him that did it.
He was like a supportive structure, absolutely leanable-on.
“I think…it would concentrate my mind if I knew that a certain level of poor performance might earn me a…um…something a bit painful.”
“Why can’t you say it?”