Good point. Now, I just needed to convince myself of what my real reason was.
8
Andrew
One Month Later
To say I had butterflies in my stomach was an understatement. A huge understatement. In only a pair of boxer briefs, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my scarred torso while I tried to think about tonight. For weeks now, I’d mulled over finally negotiating a session with Tabitha. My mind and body longed for a session. Was tonight the right night? I was nervous, but I wasn’t afraid.
I left the coffee house a little earlier than usual so I would have time to come home and wash the day’s work off me. I hadn’t given Tabitha any indication that I was ready to negotiate a session. I didn’t want to commit to a session ahead of time. I wanted to make sure I got to the club early enough to approach her before anyone else had the chance to.
Assuming she would even be there tonight. She had told me about a month or so ago that she’d wait as long as I needed. She’d also said that unless she’d notified me ahead of time of a scheduling conflict, she’d always be at Oxygen on Saturday nights by seven. And as sure as the sun, Tabitha had been there every Saturday. She’d never arranged a session with anyone until she knew I’d seen her.
Just in case.
I didn’t wince when I took a deep breath, which felt good, and I thought I was slowly returning to my usual form. I laughed sarcastically at that sentiment.
“Great, Andrew. That’s a shit load of progress. Now you can breathe without feeling like your ribs are puncturing your lungs.”
I put on my jeans and black lace up boots and then pulled on a navy t-shirt that hugged my biceps. I didn’t want to mess with a long-sleeved button-down shirt for tonight like I usually did. I needed to be as comfortable as possible.
As I shut my car door, my cell phone alerted me of an incoming text. My pulse sped up and my stomach dropped as I worried it would be Tabitha letting me know she wouldn’t be at Oxygen tonight. Thankfully, it wasn’t a text from her, but from my attorney.On a Saturday?
Michael: Hey, Andrew. I apologize for bugging you on the weekend, but I just realized this text never went through to you yesterday. I received notification late yesterday afternoon that Elise changed her plea again. So we’re back to the single plea of not guilty by reason of insanity.
What the fuck?
Andrew: What does that mean for us?
Michael: I haven’t heard yet if the court has accepted the plea or how this affects the trial date. It most likely will change the date, but to when, exactly, I don’t have that info yet. I’ll connect with you early next week.
I left it at that and set my cell phone on the seat beside me. I shook my head.
“Fucking Elise,” I mumbled.
Motionless, I sat in the driveway thinking. I thought about going back inside and bypassing Oxygen for the night.
No, I couldn’t do that. I was an operator now. Besides, Elise no longer dictated what I did. I couldn’t control her or her actions, but I could control my own.
On my way to Oxygen, I thought about what Tabitha had said before about how I could possibly expect plea changes. It didn’t necessarily mean anything about the case details, but more so the defense trying to paint Elise as unstable.
That she is, for sure.
Before I knew it, I had arrived at Oxygen. I didn’t see Tabitha’s SUV yet, but it was barely six thirty. I spent a few minutes talking with Ali at the check-in desk before stepping inside the club. I greeted Albert and wandered around the main room, talking to members who didn’t seem to be involved in negotiations.
I watched one of our experienced long-time Tops negotiate a session with a bottom. He asked her about medical conditions and overall health, and what her hard and soft limits were. He then asked what her safe word was. Their negotiations were textbook perfect.
Was I ready to do this again?
Could I do this again?
“Hey, you’re here early tonight,” Josh said as he leaned on the back of the couch beside me.
“Hey. Yeah.” I decided against bringing up anything about Tabitha. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, so I came up with a believable story. “I figure I should try to come in earlier more often. That way I can talk to members before they get involved with their evenings.”
Josh raised his eyebrow at me as one side of his mouth turned up into a smile.
“Is that what we’re doing?” he asked. I swallowed, hoping he wouldn’t call bullshit and ask what was really up. But Josh knew me like a brother.
