I cannot bring myself to be cruel to her, though. This is not her vocation; she is not a professional. She has not learned to guard herself, to not let the sexual gratification be anything more than the simple act of giving and receiving pleasure.
However, in these past weeks, while I have purposely learned little about her, I cannot say that I have guarded myself well either.
I’ve thought of her too many times.
Every week, I tell myself this is just an escape. But when the hour ends, I still crave her voice, her touch, the sweet scent of her skin.
“I look forward to this every week,” I finally say, after a long pause. “I think about it more than I should. And… today, an hour didn’t feel like enough.”
“Why?”
I exhale through my nose. “There are things that complicate my life,” I say. “On the ice and off. Normally, I can manage it. But this week… I was just angry. Frustrated.”
She hums, soft and amused. “So you woke up and chose violence.”
“I don’t understand the humor?” I mean for this to be a statement, but it comes out as a question.
Ana giggles in response. “It’s a social media thing? Like, a meme?”
“Oh,” I say slowly. “I don’t really have time for that kind of thing. But it’s meant to be funny?”
“Yes. Usually.”
“Okay,” I say. “But I did. Choose violence, that is. I’m sorry. Truly.”
“I—” Ana pauses for a moment. “I like your darkness, Nik. I like what we do in here. And I don’t mind…I don’t mind that you push me outside my comfort zone. You know I don’t have a lot of experience. I don’t know what I like, not really, so you’re kind of…teaching me.”
“But you did not like what we did tonight.”
“I think I didn’t like theintentionbehind it. You wanted to hurt me. It hasn’t felt like that before.”
“I see.”
She is right. I have been full of rage all week, out of control from it, honestly. It’s not a good thing. And tonight…I let it bleed intoher.
However, this is not a place for romance. This room is for pleasure and pain with consent. It is not a place for sweet sentiments, for feelings.
There’s a reason I contain my proclivities in this room.
I am not sweet.
I am not kind.
I am not romantic.
I don’t have room for those illusions.
I will not marry.
I will not have children.
I cannot offer that to anyone.
My life is tangled in too much blood, too many secrets. It barely belongs to me, how could I give it to someone else?
How could I ask someone to ignore the fact that I don’t just choose violence, but sometimes Ienjoyit?
Ana is good and sweet and innocent, and she doesn’t belong in that life.
