“Domination kink?” I say finally. It’s something I’ve sort of fantasized about with men, but I’ve never really looked into it before.
Ingrid pushes her chic black glasses up her nose. “Oh. I like it. But are we talkingFifty Shadesdom or something leaning darker?”
I think for a moment. “Fifty Shadesbut make it less problematic?”
“Healthy Dom? I like it. Let’s highlight the use of safewords and consent.” Ingrid gives me a thumbs up. “Thanks for taking it on. You’re a rockstar, Pippa.”
As Ingrid leaves, Ayoka leans over. “Are you sure you have time foranotherarticle? You’re already running yourself pretty ragged.”
I shrug. “I can handle it.”
“I know youcando it, but you’re also allowed to tell Ingrid no sometimes. It’s the holidays—you deserve to take a break.”
“It’s fine. You know I love a challenge.”
Ayoka puts her hands up. “Whatever you say.”
I am actually kind of excited about this article. I’ve never dated anyone I trusted enough to really get into BDSM, but I’m curious. There’s something exciting about choosing to give up control.
In my head, I’m already compiling a list of sources to contact. There’s a Domme I talked to earlier this year for an article about confidence, and a professor who teaches a sexual psychology class at UofT. I’m sure they’ll see this article as a chance to demystify a few things about the topic.
Besides, it’s probably good for me to think about something sexual that has nothing to do with Ryan. I need to be able to have a session with my vibrator where I’m completely sure I won’t picture his face.
12
RYAN
“Fuck yeah!” I pump my fist in the air when the Rangers left wing shoots a puck right into the net.
Around me, Nate, Luke, and James groan loudly.
“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asks. “Why can’t you just be a Toronto fan like everyone else?”
“Because in my heart, I’m a Madison Square Garden boy.” I pull out my Rangers jersey proudly. “I was born in the wrong city. I’ve known it since I was eight years old.”
“You knew you wantedattentionwhen you were eight,” James points out. “You knew being contrary would get you some.”
“Who doesn’t love attention?” I say with a shrug.
Even though I don’t root for the Maple Leafs, the guys still come over to my place to watch hockey because my big screen and sound system are unbeatable. We’re all sprawled out on the couches with beers, except Luke, who drinks strictly whiskey. Normally, Beau brings up catering from Terrace Steakhouse downstairs. For some reason, he couldn’t make it today, so we were stuck ordering pizza.
“Where’s Beau again?” I ask.
“He said he had a meeting with a new chef,” Nate says, at the same time that Luke says, “Boxing class.”
My head whips between the two of them. “Wait, did he lie to us?”
“Or he mixed up his schedule,” James suggests.
Luke scoffs. “Henevermixes up his schedule.”
“Maybe he doesn’t owe you an explanation for where he is every minute of the day,” James says.
“Don’t act like you’re above the gossip, James.” I give him a pointed look. I’m still annoyed at him for blabbing about me throwing Pippa over my shoulder.
Before I can start an argument, Waffle leaps up on the side of my couch, nuzzling her dark head against my hand and giving me a pleading look.
“I know what you’re really here for,” I tell her, reaching in my pocket and giving her a treat.
