“OH, AYE, SASSENACH, I AM your master...and you’re mine.Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.”I kept replaying the quote fromOutlanderin my head as I walked the last few blocks to the restaurant.I could almost feel Erik’s strong arms holding me and his lips pressed to the top of my head as I read to him.
Actually, my entire time with Erik seemed to have etched itself on my psyche.Deeper, if I was being honest with myself, which I was making a concerted effort to do.If nothing else, being with Erik taught me how often I hid or suppressed my real feelings.I wasn’t going to become one of those people who used the truth to bludgeon others, but I was going to do a better job being honest with myself.Starting with the fact that I loved the way Erik played my body, and that there might be something genuine to this dominance and submission thing.
Surrendering to him while he used the fine line between pleasure and pain to show me new, deeper sensations had been one of the most powerful experiences of my life.And I had a feeling we were just getting started.There was so much more he could teach me and so much more I wanted to know.
It shocked the hell out of me, but it wasn’t just BDSM stuff.His dyslexia confession brought up a dozen more questions and made me want to understand him that much more.How crazy strong and committed did a person have to be to get through law school when they struggled to read?He’d shown me his text-to-voice app on his way to take me home and explained some of his coping methods.Everything he told me made me like him that much more.Likewas the onlyLword I was even thinking, but I had to admit, the man was so much more than I’d first imagined.And I was getting in deeper every minute we spent together.
Pushing the uncomfortable thought aside, I opened the door to the raw food restaurant Elena had chosen for lunch.The interior was practically covered with Carrara marble.Everything was smooth and white, and the restaurant smelled like fresh cut grass and chamomile.It was the scent of every summer I’d had growing up except I had a feeling there wouldn’t be any Nutty Buddy cones at the end of this meal.
I gave my name to the host and followed him to a table beside what looked like a back-lit Himalayan salt wall.I sat in the rosy glow and studied a menu full of food I didn’t really want to eat.In a city known for its food, I still couldn’t quite believe we were eating in a place that didn’t even cook the food.I had to keep reminding myself that wasn’t the point.It was Elena’s choice.It felt a little like my friends were taking turns babysitting me.I tried to focus on feeling loved and not on the slightly helpless desperation that came from suddenly having no job and friends determined to keep me busy.I ordered a beet juice mocktail and relaxed back into the surprisingly comfortable seat to wait.
Elena blew in a few minutes past the hour, looking pretty if slightly frazzled, and I wondered what she had to move around to make time for me.I hated feeling like the weakest link.At least this time I might have something helpful to offer her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, taking my hand in hers and leaning in to kiss my cheeks.“I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
“Not long at all.”The drink I’d barely touched supported my statement.“I honestly understand if you don’t have time for lunch.”And it would mean I wouldn’t be stuck pretending uncooked vegetables counted as food.
“Don’t be silly.A client turned me on to this place.I love it here.”The smile lit her face, which was a clear illustration of different strokes and all that.
The server took Elena’s order for a green supreme juice, and we paused for a moment to glance at the menu.Oyster po’ boy and fries hadn’t sprouted up among the nuts and berries, so I settled on a zucchini wrap.At least it included avocado, which wasn’t as good as bacon but better than wheatgrass.Elena had the same with the avocado and cashew sour cream on the side.
“Seriously?”
“I like it that way.”
I wasn’t sure I believed her, but it was her lunch.When it was my turn to pick, we were going to Tujague’s for gumbo.
“I think I might have found a house you could decorate for the home tour,” I said after the server set a basket of old school crudité on the table.Not as good as breadsticks but not bad.“Nothing definite but I’ve got a lead.”
Even that might be overstating things.I still had no idea how I was going to get Jensen to agree to open his home but seeing the expression on my friend’s face made me determined to figure it out.
“How?Who?They always show the same houses.They’re locked up years in advance.”
“I know someone with a house in the Garden District that’s never been featured.”Knew—intimately, like screaming orgasm, fist gripping my hair, just shy of Biblical depending on how you counted it—someone who had a home that had never been shown.“I’m...”How did I describe it?Close to?Seeing?Cuffed by?Itwasn’tdating.“I have a client who has a home on First Street.I might be able to convince him to open it up.”
Holding a forkful of spiralized zucchini halfway to her mouth, she looked at me like I’d offered her the Holy Grail.“On First?Whose house is it?I thought you weren’t seeing clients.”
Elena was my friend.It ought to be easier to tell her the truth about Erik and me.
“Remember the speaker from the domestic violence fundraiser?”
“Erik Jensen is your client?”Her voice rose on his name, reaching near screech levels, and I wondered if somewhere across town, the good counselor’s ears were ringing.
“Shh,” I said, holding my hands up between us.
“Sorry.”She dropped her voice in a mock whisper.“But seriously?Since when do you know Erik Jensen?Why didn’t you say something about it at the benefit?Have you seen him naked?God, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me.”
It wasn’t lost on me that she’d started speaking almost entirely in questions.Questions I wasn’t comfortable answering—not yet anyway.
