“Wait.” I shake my head like it’ll clear up and straighten out the information overload that just occurred in my fucking brain, then lock eyes with Demi. “She’syour ex?”
Demi slowly nods, her eyes locked on Raegan.
“Shehas a name, you know. But I guess it would make sense that you’ve already forgotten after… what has it been now? Twenty years?” Raegan’s arms are crossed tightly and her hip is jutted out. It screams annoyance and resentment, which I guess I deserve.
“Raegan–” Demi whispers, her brows furrowed. “I, um… What are you doing here? Wait, don’t answer that.”
“You’re early,” I interject.
Her posture relaxes just a little. “I know. Your lawyer said I could come by any time.”
Fucking Ben.
“Wait–” Demi interrupts and we both stop, turning our attention to her. “Raegan is your…Yourwife?”
“I’d hardly classify myself as his wife, Demetria–”
“Don’t callme that.”
“Sorry,” Raegan softens a little further. “As I was saying. I don’t think you can call us husband and wife when all we ever had was about a month two decades ago.”Ouch. “How is it, exactly, that the two of you know each other?”
“We–” Demi starts to answer.
I reach out to place my hand at the small of her back, then answer for both of us. “Demi works for me. She helps out in the classes I teach.” I don’t miss the major side-eye Demi is giving at my very exaggerated answer considering I’ve yet toactuallylet her help me.Relax, Little Pixie. I’ve got this.“Speaking of… we have a class to get ready for now. The paperwork isn’t here yet, but Ben should have it here within the hour. Feel free to wait in my office in the meantime.”
“I suppose I can do that,” Raegan nods hesitantly as I usher her into my office.
“We–I’ll–be back soon.”
The door clicks shut and my eyes are locked–once again–on Demi. “What the actual fuck? How is it that my wife, and your ex are the same goddamn person? Why didn’t you tell me your ex is Raegan Adler?”
“Oh, gee. I don’t know. Maybe because–aside from the small detail of me not even knowingyourlast name–her name didn’t seem all that relevant because I was with her inKansas City. Or maybe the fact that I assumed she was also gay. Orrrrrr maybe it never occurred to me, that with all the fucking people in the entire goddamn country, we were pining over the same fucking person! What sane person would have ever had that on their relationship bingo card. Did you even know she was into women?”
Fuck. I’m an asshole. “No, I didn’t know that.”
She’s right. Why would she mention her name when there was never any reason to think that was relevant information to share. I find it both odd and strangely ironic that neither of us even casually mentioned her name in conversation.
Demi and I have beenfriendssince the night we both used each other to commiserate over my wife–her ex, who I also had no clue was ever into women. This all feels like some kind of next-level Twilight Zone bullshit we’ve justwalked into and I have no idea how I’m supposed to navigate this. I’m a planner by nature, but I could have never seen this coming.
“Is this okay for the class?” Demi asks, sweeping her hands up and down her body like she’s presenting herself to me and breaking me from my swirling thoughts about our new red-headed, still hot as hell conundrum.
“Yeah, it’s fine. How are you so calm, right now? You seriously just found out mywifeis the same person that broke your heart. If you need some time, Demi… take it. Or should I call you Demetria?”
We’ve talked about our mutual misery numerous times since the night we met. She was devastated when her ex-girlfriend–who I now know is Raegan–broke up with her. That can’t be easy for her. I’d be surprised if she didn’t need time to process all of this.
“Please, don’t call me that. I hate my full name and I hate that she uses it. I appreciate the consideration, but I’ll be fine.” Her words are quick, clipped and not subtle. Yeah. She’s going to need some time.
If I’m being honest, so do I. The images running through my head of the two of themtogether, are causing a physical reaction in my body I’m not prepared to deal with. Don’t even get me started on the way she said her name… Demetria… slowly… intentionally, like it was a delicacy and she was meant to savor each syllable. She may hate it, but I certainly don’t. Christ.I might be all-the-way hard again.
“You remember your safeword?” I whisper in Demi’s ear. Class is about to begin and I’ve got her positioned in a wooden chair at the front of the room, her bare legs on display and her tits begging to be released from the confines of the crop top that’s been annoyingly containing them since she showed up. We went over everything before we came in, but I know she’s anxious and it never hurts to double or sometimes triple check.
“Yes, Sir,” she answers breathily. I didn’t instruct her to call me that, but I’m also not going to correct her. Itismy preferred honorific and I love hearing it spill from her lips.
“Tell them,” I order. Safewords are one of the most important parts of engaging in any BDSM or kink related activity. I don’t want the class to only learn how to tie knots or whatever other details I’m sharing. They need the full picture and this is part of that, even if she’s only my demo bunny.
“My safeword is Pikachu.”
Quiet snickers pass through the dozen or so people in the room and I turn my head away from Demi to glare at them. “Safewords are a vital piece of anything and everything you do here or elsewhere. It doesn’t matter what it is… as long as you’ll remember it if you need it and it’s not something you’d normally say. And they aren’t to be taken lightly.” The few that were smirking sit straight in their seats, schooling their expressions. Good. They got the point. People pay a lot of money to be a member at Gravity, and then some to take part in my classes. I want them to have fun but I won’t tolerate safety not being taken seriously. If they want to fuck around, they can find out somewhere else.
