I can’t help but wonder if I could be that bold. I’ve heard other interview subjects talk about the thrill of being watched while they’re having sex, and I have to admit the idea turns me on. I’m just not sure if I would still be turned on or if I would freeze up if I were faced with such a scenario myself.
Jenna answers a few more of my questions, filling in the last remaining blanks in my notes, then I walk her to the door.
“Thank you for your story,” I say, truly grateful that I made an exception to open a slot for her. I think her story will serve as an umbrella for a whole chapter in my book. Not only for its strong emphasis on trust and the power of mind games to enhance sexual response, but also for how both highlight the relationship between pain and pleasure.
I also like how her story reinforces the message of letting go, releasing control, and being open to chance. The universe will always bring us exactly what we need when we’re ready, especially when we’re not even looking for it.
The way Jenna and Warren met, for example. If he hadn’t misdialed Jenna’s number, and if she hadn’t answered her phone, they might never have met. As it turns out, he did misdial, and she did answer, and now she’s traveling along a new path that will not only take her personal life into a more satisfying and fulfilling direction, but also her novels to new heights—and possibly fast-track her to the bestseller lists.
Who knows, maybe Warren will even collar Jenna someday and make their relationship official in more ways than one by marrying her. It certainly sounds like the two of them are already well along that path with each other.
And isn’t that what we’re all after? Happily ever after? In our own way, and however it looks, happily ever after is the endgame.
And mine is out there somewhere too. It just hasn’t found me yet. Then again, maybe I’m not ready for it to find me. Until I am, I’ll live vicariously through my interview subjects.
Epilogue
The table smelled like leather. It felt like the kind of leather saddles were made of. Heavy and hard. Smooth from use and polish.
She knew he was near. She could feel his presence. He gave off a powerful energy. One that felt alive and swirled around her like an erotic breeze, raising the tiny hairs on her arms and tingling her skin from head to toe.
What sounded like a metal chain rattled behind her.
“Extend your arms over your head,” he said.
She did as he instructed, and he wrapped a thick leather cuff around her right wrist, securing it. Metal jangled as he manipulated the leather through what must have been some kind of buckle. The cuff tightened, then he shackled her left wrist in the same manner.
His fingers brushed over her forearms. “Is that comfortable?”
She nodded. The cuffs were lined with fur, so the leather didn’t bite into her skin.
“Say the words, Jenna. That way I know for sure.”
“Yes, sir, I’m comfortable.”
The room was warm, but not too warm. A subtle breeze whirled past her as his footsteps carried him from the head of the table to her feet.
She had gotten used to the blindfold by now. After a month of wearing it, her other senses had sharpened enough that she could almost see in her mind’s eye what was happening around her. She knew the sound of his footsteps, the cadence of his gait. She could taste the mild but zesty scent of his aftershave on the tip of her tongue and could feel the unique bend of the air around him as he moved.
Warren emanated a distinct energy that had its own shape and form, both irresistible and menacing, seductive and formidable. She was drawn to it, but also feared it, in her way. He was a feather on one side and a barbed whip on the other. He was cool water and scorching fire. She knew that if she disobeyed him, he would burn her, but oh how sublime the blisters would be.
She tested the restraints around her wrists. She was locked in tight, only able to move her arms a few inches in any direction.
His fingertips lightly caressed her bare ankle. “You always wear such lovely shoes.”
What a wicked man, with his silent smile caressing her ears.
“Thank you, sir.”
He had bought her “lovely shoes.” Red to match the red dress he’d sent for her to wear tonight. The red dress that now lay discarded on her bed upstairs.
After a light dinner, he had helped her out of the dress and her undergarments before wrapping her in a luxurious two-toned, cream-and-honey-colored silk robe he had bought for her—more wrapping paper—and then he’d taken her to the basement.
Lying back on the table, she was still wearing the robe, and nothing more, other than the fire-engine red Jimmy Choos adorning her feet. She had known to leave those on for him before taking her position on the table. They were the tantalizing bow for him to take off before unwrapping her.
Right on cue, he gently removed them, letting his fingertips trail over the top of each foot.
It was just the two of them tonight. No audience. No other club members watching them. Next week would be her debut at the club, so this was the last time they would play for only each other before he officially presented her as his submissive.
His fingers gently bent her toes. She knew he was inspecting her pearl-white pedicure. The seconds ticked by. Was he pleased with the simple, virginal color she had chosen especially for tonight? With how smooth
