The tease makes me laugh and I relax further. “What other goodies do you have in there?”
“Lots and lots of things,” she says, eyes sparkling. “But you have to be very good or very, very bad to get a look at anything else.”
The thought of either sends a rush of heat straight to my groin. The old darkness lurks underneath, pacing back and forth, hoping for a break in concentration so it can pour through the gap, taking over, taking control.
“These feel more solid,” I say, holding up the ties. “I think I’d prefer them.”
She sits back on her heels, leaning on the cabinet door for balance. “We can do it without. I know it’s a lot, especially when there’s someone else in the room. I’ve got some wrist protectors so they don’t accidentally cut into your skin, but I could use those as the chief restraints. That way, you get to feel bound, but you can break free fairly easily.”
The darkness inside me perks up, head tilted, listening.
“No,” I say before it can agree in my stead. “I’ll feel better with genuine bonds.” The only way I can be sure I won’t break down midway through and try to hurt her. Or worse, succeed in hurting her. “Do you know Andy well?”
She shrugs. “I’ve met him a few times, but we’ve never worked on a job together.” She stands and moves to sit beside me on the bed, her slight weight pulling me on a lean towards her. “We can try this without him. Since you’re paying him the same either way, he won’t mind.”
I put a hand on the back of my neck, eyes closed, rubbing my hair the wrong way then smoothing it down again.
What I want is for all of this to be in the palm of my hand; contained, easy. The idea of trying this excites me, even now when my nerves are wound to breaking point, but it also scares me.
It’s so big and sprawling and involved. Nothing like pressing play and watching.
But the discomfort might be worth it. That’s the tantalising thought propelling me forward when I could have called it quits so much earlier.
We might make a genuine connection, even with all the rigmarole surrounding us. Bigger than the friendship we’ve already forged. More satisfying than a screen and my hand.
“Could you help do me up?” Rosa asks, turning and lifting her hair so I can fasten the back of her top. It’s connected with tiny ribbons and snaps. My fingers feel like rough brutes just getting near something so delicate.
“When you said you were getting changed, I thought you’d duck into the bathroom.”
“Mm. Because you’re not going to see me in a lot less clothing in a few minutes time.”
I touch a finger to the back of her hand. “I did this all wrong.”
Rosa tilts her head forward so her loose hair falls like a curtain around her face. “How d’you mean?”
But I can’t explain it. I’d have to start with an apology for watching her at my party, watching her get into trouble and not doing anything until she fought back. Explain further, going back so far, I’m not sure my memories are anything but figments of my imagination.
There aren’t the words and I’m not sure even I have a good understanding.
“We don’t have to do this,” she says, putting her hand around the back of my neck, her touch soothing. “I can go out there and tell Andy his services aren’t needed. You can leave or we can stay and watch the terrible programmes they schedule on Saturday afternoon tv.”
“But you went to all this trouble.”
“For which you’re still paying me.” She wobbles me back and forth, giving a soft laugh. “Usually, I’d be concerned that you’d be out of pocket and not get anything for it, but I really don’t think that’s as much of a concern for you as it is for my other clients.”
I bump the top of my head against her shoulder. “I guess not.”
She moves her head until her cheek presses against mine, her fingers curling into the soft hairs on the back of my head, gently massaging. “I wish I were normal.”
“Nobody’s normal, Trent. Haven’t you noticed we’re all as fucked up as one another?”
I want to do so much with her. Swing her across my lap and hold her in place while I touch her, kiss her, familiarise myself with her body until every inch is locked in my memory.
But the beast is pacing, swinging its lithe body around as it reaches the extent of its cage, and retracing its path until it hits against the opposite side, then repeats. I can’t trust myself to have her, not the way I want, the way I hope she wants, but I’m used to others being my proxy on screens. Her being my proxy in the flesh could reach another level. It could open another world.
“How do I…?” My voice trails into confusion. “Where do I sit? What do I do?”
“Over here.” Rosa moves to the larger of two chairs, patting the seat.
